


Would You Like Fries with that Yearning?

by daoimean



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Foster Care, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Healing, I can't believe that isn't already an established tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, McDonald's AU, Minor Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Minor Netossa/Spinnerella (She-Ra), Minor Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra), Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, well more like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoimean/pseuds/daoimean
Summary: Catra thinks it's just going to be another McDay at the worst job in the world, until a familiar face has the nerve to show up in the drive-thru.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 236
Kudos: 453





	1. Another McDay

**Author's Note:**

> A fun spin on the classic coffee shop AU! 
> 
> I did used to work at McDonald's but I live in the UK so I don't know if they do things differently elsewhere (and it has been a couple of years so there's a good chance I've forgotten some things), I apologise to my McBrethren across the pond in advance.
> 
>  **Note:** I kept some of the names that I felt could feasibly be names/nicknames and took a bit of creative licensing with some others. There will be a key in each chapter where new names appear.

A day at McDonald's could only go two ways: bad or terrible. 

The second Catra's alarm went off, she knew it would be the latter. 

Monday morning. Everyone privileged enough to have one would be heading back to their cushy 9-5 jobs, bitter and groggy and ready to take it out on whichever poor soul they decided to hold solely responsible for their McMuffins and gross ass coffees not arriving in record time, as if they had _any_ right to complain. She almost considered calling out, but this was only her sixth shift in two weeks since Hordak had started cutting back everyone's hours, and she needed whatever hours she could get if she wanted any chance in the fresh hell of getting out of this dump. Besides, Beatrix Tessaro was the night manager, and she knew she'd call bullshit (and she'd be right, but it wouldn't have made a difference if she was genuinely ill; if she was on her deathbed Tessaro would just wheel her in)— at least going to work would mean avoiding her when she came home, as she lived in the cruel timeline where her manager was also her former legal guardian, and where she was nineteen and still hadn't made nearly enough to move out. 

That was the thought that finally spurred her out of bed with ten minutes to spare. She retrieved her uniform from the heap on her floor and got changed in record time (she should really start timing this), but still not quick enough to avoid skipping breakfast and sprint for the bus on an empty stomach and three hours' sleep. At this unholy hour, the only bus that would get her to work on time got her there a half hour early, which at least gave her time to grab a McMuffin meal with her employee discount, but then she realised she forgot to bring a hair tie and had to trade her hash brown for Lonnie's spare. The rest of her meal was left to go cold on the staffroom table as she glared at her tired reflection in the dirty mirror, trying to fight her neglected poof of frizz into something that would fit under a hair net. 

"I keep _telling_ you, Catra," said Lonnie from the table, "you've _gotta_ at _least_ start using leave-in conditioner. Don't tell me you're _still_ using that dollar store shampoo-slash-conditioner stuff, I wouldn't even recommend that shit to a white girl."

She used that exact stuff when she showered last night, actually, and needless to say it was not followed up with a leave-in conditioner or any of the oils or cremes or whatever else Lonnie had recommended to her in the time they'd known each other. In the mirror, she could see Lonnie smugly enjoying her hash brown, dipping it into a tub of sweet n' sour sauce like the fiend she was. Her own stomach growled mournfully. That should have been _her_ hash brown. _She_ would have treated it the way it deserved. 

"Didn't ask," she said, finally pushing her hat down over the bun-type thing she'd managed, "don't care. You know who the morning manager is?" 

"Grizzlor, I think," said Lonnie, shrugging, "but I haven't seen him yet." 

Grizzlor (not his actual name) was notorious for his tardiness, especially after a weekend, which meant Tessaro would probably be here for at least another hour or so. Great. 

It was then that Kyle popped his head round the door, which had been propped open with a mop bucket by whichever night shifter hadn't finished cleaning the staffroom. He was disheveled, dark circles framing wide eyes, the kind of frazzled mess typical for a night shift under Tessaro. "Uh, Catra, T-Tessaro wants you to...to, uh—" 

"Get a float for window one?" Catra cut in, raising a brow. 

Kyle visibly grimaced as his headset started flashing. Catra felt that. She sometimes heard that dreaded beeping in her nightmares. "Um," he said, "yeah. Sorry." 

Catra sighed, muttering something under her breath about where Tessaro could shove her fucking float. Kyle blinked, visibly swallowing. "No, don't _say_ that to her. Tell her I'll be there in five. Isn't it Grizzlor's shift, anyway?" 

"He called out. Tessaro's covering him." _Figures_. "Sorry, I need to, uh—" He tapped the side of his headset, his tone immediately switching accordingly. "Good morning and welcome to McDonald's! What can I get for you today?" 

As Kyle scampered back to his window to put the order through, Catra flopped down on one of the plastic chairs with a groan. She checked the time on her phone; she wasn't even supposed to start for another fifteen minutes.

"Damn," said Lonnie, "that's, what, the tenth shift in a row?" 

_"Yup."_

"And Tessaro is gonna be _crabby."_

"You're telling me." 

"You gonna eat that McGriddle?" 

She snatched it from below Lonnie's hungry eyes, washing it down with the disgusting McDonald's coffee she hoped would keep her awake. The mention of crabby brought up an ancient memory, where her friend (at the time) Adora drew a picture of Tessaro as a crabby crab. It was less funny when Tessaro found it and blamed Catra, deaf to Adora's feeble protests. Definitely wasn't funny now. 

After _six_ minutes _(yeah,_ that'll _show her)_ , she got up to face the music. 

Tessaro looked so tired Catra might have felt a little bad for her if she hadn't specifically put her on drive-thru order-taking, _again,_ because she knew it was her least favourite role— _and_ if she didn't know for a fact she'd _continue_ taking her misery out on Catra the entire shift, and probably once they got home too. She sat in silence as she watched Tessaro count out the change bags (very closely, in case she tried to short-change her again) since the coin machine was still broken, and Tessaro didn't say a word either. Just the way they both liked it. The cramped managers' office hung heavy with resentment. 

Octavia was taking orders and payments in window one, so Kyle must have been in window two. Her face fell in relief when she saw Catra, and she wasted no time in swapping the floats over, lest she had to serve _one_ more fucking customer. 

"Good _luck,"_ were her smug parting words as she handed Catra the headset, wearing the wistful smile of someone already thinking about the soft warm bed that awaited them. 

_God I wish that were me._

The first couple hours weren't too busy, and she went through the motions in her usual zombie-like manner, to the usual backdrop of people bickering and yelling and fryers and grills beeping and Tessaro barking orders like an army general. She was momentarily distracted by an almighty crash and a resounding kitchen-wide _ohhhhh!_ as Rogelio dropped an entire tray of eggs, resulting in her accidentally exact-cashing a customer's card payment which basically meant she had to put the whole order through again, and now her float would be down the price of the whole order unless Tessaro put through a refund (which she knew she wouldn't). In that same ten minutes, a guy in a truck she was amazed even fit in the drive-thru called her kitten and asked for her number. Tessaro came to lecture her for putting a customer's order through wrong, even though it had been the customer's mistake, and then came to lecture her again after the kitten guy complained about her being 'rude' for not reciprocating his flirting. About an hour and a half in she got Scorpia (her actual name) in the kitchen to cover her while she ran to the bathroom, where she realised her period had started, which thought she might explain that feeling of impending dread this morning; she had to run back to the window without Tessaro seeing her to quietly ask Scorpia if she had any tampons. She soon regretted not asking for painkillers too. 

Just when she was beginning to feel like the cramps might actually kill her, or drive her to kill someone else, Lonnie's voice sounded over the headset. "Look sharp, Hordak's here." 

_Huh._

That certainly distracted her. Hordak almost never showed up at the store, much less on the shop floor, unless there was an inspector coming, and she knew for a fact there were none due because everyone would be cleaning maniacally if there was (and Tessaro would make _her_ clean out the gross drain under the sink). Out of nosiness, she peaked out of her isolated little pod in time to see Tessaro hastily twisting her long hair into a bun with the just-in-case hair-tie she kept around her wrist (Catra would probably have had more hash browns in her life if she made a habit of wearing one of those), frantically motioning for Catra to pass her a hairnet. For whatever reason, Catra quickly complied. Tessaro didn't thank her. 

"Ah, _Hordak,"_ she greeted instead, in a loud announcing tone that was intended to warn anyone who didn't look busy or whose surroundings weren't immaculate, "what a wonderful _surprise_ for you to grace us with your presence." 

The seldom-seen store manager held up a hand to silence her, refolding his arms behind his back. He strolled regally down side two of the kitchen, like a king touring his kingdom, surveying his lowly subjects. "Weren't you on the night shift, Beatrix?" he asked, almost incredulously. 

_"Yes,"_ Tessaro answered, sounding like she was smiling through clenched teeth, "I _was."_

Hordak was silent for a moment or two. Catra wondered if he picked up on the passive-aggression. In fairness, not that she was about to stick her neck out for Tessaro's human rights, she was pretty sure that making someone work this long, this often, in _this_ kind of environment was against some kind of law in this state. Against common human decency at the very least. 

"Well," he finally said. He looked around, eyes narrowing like he was disapproving of something, but Catra couldn't tell what, "it's actually rather convenient that you're here. I need a word. Come." 

He motioned for Tessaro to follow, presumably to the manager's office, and Catra quickly slipped back into her pod. In the camera she saw a car begin to pull up. As soon as she saw the woman's haircut, she knew what was coming. 

The headset beeped once, _once_ , before she heard that demanding _"_ _hello?!"_ that always shot a homicidal urge up her chest. Biting back a scream, she answered with her painstakingly perfected customer service voice. "Sorry for your wait there, ma'am. Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get for you today?" 

"I'd like a Smarties McFlurry, please." 

_She's doing this deliberately. She has_ got _to be doing this deliberately. At least she said please?_

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm afraid we can't do McFlurries at this time." _And we haven't done the Smarties one in_ months, _moron._ "We clean the machine in the morning." 

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" 

"I'm afraid not." 

_"Fine_ , I'll have a strawberry milkshake."

"Same machine, ma'am."

"In that case, I'd like a word with your manager."

_And there it is._

"Alright." She exhaled. "Pull up to the payment window and she'll be right with you, _ma'am."_

She slid the headset off and hung it around her neck so she wouldn't hear whatever else the woman had to say. The customer was obviously saving her wrath for said manager, but now Catra would have to face Tessaro's wrath too— _and_ potentially Hordak's. 

Outside the office, she took a moment to listen in. Their voices were lowered, the conversation in some other language— Russian? Hordak was from Russia, right? Somewhere like that— but she didn't have to understand what they were saying to _feel_ the venom dripping from their words, seeping into her as a creeping tingle up her spine. What about _McDonald's_ could possibly warrant that intense a discussion in _any_ language? It can't be that deep, surely. But it still made her strangely nervous. 

In any case, it sounded like something she probably shouldn't disturb, but she thought it best not to keep Karen waiting. She tentatively knocked on the door. Despite there being no Russian(?)-speakers on shift, the two inside aggressively shushed each other, and it took a full thirty seconds for Tessaro answer. _"What?!"_ she demanded, eyes fiery over her facemask. 

Catra reflexively flinched back, struggling to swallow. "A customer asked for the manager." 

"Good _grief."_

She stalked ahead, leaving Catra loitering by the door. Even with Tessaro out of view she just couldn't push down the tightness in her chest. She glanced at the now closed office door, and decided that with her headset not beeping, and Tessaro dealing with the customer, she might as well chance another quick bathroom break. Hordak emerged just as she turned towards the staffroom. 

"Unauthorised bathroom break?" he inquired, raising a brow. 

Her anxiety dissipated. She almost wanted to laugh. 

_Unauthorised?_ She wanted to scoff. _Sir, this a_ McDonald's. _You are the manager of a_ McDonald's. _The head clown of a circus would have more prestige and dignity. Chill the_ fuck _out._

"I'm on my period," she said instead. 

That actually seemed to be more effective. Hordak took a step back, mortified, like she'd just announced she was carrying a contagious disease. She offered a last polite nod and went on her way.

She returned to her window as Tessaro was leaving. The small crowd that had gathered, as McDonald's employees naturally did at any hint of drama, dispersed like the seas parting to Moses to let the manager pass before she could yell at them to get back to work, all looking a little bewildered. Damn, Catra kind of regretted missing it now.

"What happened?" she asked Scorpia, taking her arm before she could return to her station.

"So," Scorpia said, "apparently that lady had been here before. Exact same problem. Got told the exact same thing." 

"Uh-huh?" 

"So Tessaro just told her to leave." 

_"And?"_

"She, uh. She did." 

Catra's grip loosened. "Ah." 

"Like, she just _left._ Not a peep of argument."

Well, she had already witnessed Tessaro's _way_ with customers, at least in terms of getting even the most rabid Richard or Karen to do as she said without protest. Whatever mysterious power it was managers had, Catra wanted some of it. 

But no time to dwell on that, her headset was beeping. 

She went back to her window, struggling to pull it open after Tessaro had obviously slammed and locked it shut. Thankfully the car had pulled back, which normally happened when the customer wanted another look at the menu, so it bought her a little extra time. A look at the camera showed a _really_ nice car, _way_ nicer than she was used to seeing in this part of town, but the driver was younger woman, college-age, already a good sign compared to the Karen before. Tanned skin, a friendly face framed with a fluffy pink bob-cut, she squinted at the menu then turned her head from the camera to say something to the passenger. 

That drew Catra's eyes to the passenger. 

And suddenly, her mood, the mood she woke up with this morning, made a _whole_ lot of sense. 

It was like she knew. She viscerally, foreseeingly _knew._

A blonde ponytail, a red jacket. She was sunken down in her seat, hunched up, like she was trying to hide, but Catra wasn't fooled. The driver pulled forward and the headset started to beep again. She answered on instinct, but her customer service voice was well beyond her; _words_ were well beyond her. When the driver finally came out with that dreaded "hello?", she forced herself to speak, but instead of her standard greeting, only a single word came out. 

_"Adora?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Beatrix Tessaro** is Shadow Weaver
> 
>  **Grizzlor** is actually a minor character in the show, he's just here because there aren't many Horde characters to fill the McDonald's with


	2. McLiar

"See, Glimmer, _this_ is why they invented satnav."

"I've _got_ this, Bow."

Adora had been having the most wonderful dream, where she was still in bed, and not on her way to a Monday morning 8am class, with Glimmer and Bow bickering like a married couple. She stirred in her seat, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut, trying to will herself back into _that_ blissful reality, but it was no good. She was awake now. Sort of.

She forced her eyes open, squinting as she shielded her eyes from the assault of blinding sunlight. "Where are we?" she asked groggily.

"Good question," said Bow, "where _are_ we, Glimmer?"

Glimmer glowered straight ahead, her lips pressed in an unmistakable pout. Suddenly, her expression lit up. "Alright, who wants breakfast?"

"Aren't we gonna be late?" Adora murmured, fumbling to find her phone before she remembered she could see the time on Glimmer's dashboard.

7:38. Oh God.

"We're gonna be late anyway," said Glimmer. The light went green and she floored it. "Well, _I_ want breakfast. If you guys want something you've gotta decide fast."

As the car swerved into a parking lot, Adora's bleary eyes adjusted to a rundown strip mall. A pair of golden arches called to a tangle of repressed memories, that suddenly lurched like bile in her throat.

 _Now_ she knew where they were.

She jolted upright, instantly more awake than she'd ever been in her life. _"Guys."_ Her voice was high with panic. "We can't go here."

"Huh?" Glimmer glanced at her, brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

No, she was not okay. But what could she even say? Either she would have to come up with some elaborate lie on the spot— and she was _terrible_ at lying— or she'd have to drop the bombshell that she'd been lying to them, _terribly,_ this entire time. An 'I'll explain later' might have sufficed, but then they'd _actually_ expect her to explain. "I—" she started, "I...don't like McDonald's."

"Hey," Glimmer said, face softening, "that's okay, you don't have to get anything."

She'd obviously vastly misinterpreted Adora’s panic to her notorious susceptibility to peer pressure, her constant fear of disappointing people, even when it had meant forcing herself into situations where she clearly wasn't comfortable. Her earnesty only made Adora's chest tighten in guilt.

"You ever had their hotcakes?" Bow asked, leaning over from the back, a gentle hand on Adora's shoulder. "They're really if you don't like the meaty stuff. Actually— Glimmer, I'll forgive you if you get me some hotcakes."

Glimmer playfully rolled her eyes. "You know what, Bow? I'll even ask for extra syrup."

Bow half-swooned, his hand over his heart. "Oh, you're too good to me."

"You sure you don't want anything?" Glimmer asked Adora.

They were in the line now, not that there was much of a line. There was only one other car, already at the payment window, that seemed to be taking its sweet time. Given it was an SUV, Adora could make a pretty decent guess as to why, and felt a pang of sympathy for whichever poor soul was on order-taking.

Actually, that was the thing. McDonald's was a _horrible_ place to work. The _worst._ The customers were awful and the management not much better. Staff turnover was notably high as a result; she remembered some employees barely lasting a few weeks, or even a few days. It had been over a year, so maybe— _maybe_ — with any luck, they had a whole new set of staff, and all the old employees had moved onto better things, far _far_ away. At the very least, there had to be _some_ new starters, and the drive-thru process only really needed two or three people, so...one could hope, right?

She didn't get her hopes up too much. As the car drew closer she sank deeper and deeper into the seat, wishing she could disappear. She'd rather _be_ the seat right now.

"I'll just have the oatmeal, I guess," she muttered.

"You guys both suck," said Glimmer, pulling forward, _"_ _I'm_ getting the double McMuffin meal, _and_ an extra hashbrown."

"Revolutionary." Bow shook his head, settling back into his seat.

Glimmer pulled forward. "Wait— shit, what drinks do they do?"

"You could always _ask,"_ said Bow.

"I _hate_ asking!" Bow sighed wearily as Glimmer reversed. "I look like that idiot who can't read the menu." It was true, but Adora didn't say anything. "Oh hey, I didn't know they did frappes here! I can't _believe_ I've been letting Starbucks charge me up the ass this whole time."

"Guess I'll have a milkshake if you're buying drinks too," said Bow.

"They don't do milkshakes in the morning," Adora felt the intrinsic need to point out, though she knew full well Bow was definitely way too nice and young and not white to take his inevitable disappointment out on the employee if they had to deliver the news.

"Aw, really?" Bow sounded heartbroken. "Sweet tea then, I guess."

Glimmer squinted at him in the rearview mirror. "Who the hell drinks milkshakes before 8am?"

"People who like to live a little."

"Whatever." Glimmer shook her head. "Do you want a drink, Adora?"

Adora sighed, defeated. "I'll have a sweet tea too."

Initially, there was no response from the speaker, which sent the unpleasant fluttering in her chest into overdrive. She tried to make herself smaller, as unnoticeable as possible, only praying that maybe the camera was broken, maybe the person on order-taking, a _stranger,_ was just busy with presets or something.

"It's...open, right?" Glimmer whispered. She leaned out the window. "Um...hello? Is anyone there?"

Finally, there was an answer.

And with it, the new life Adora had spent the past year and a half cultivating for herself shattered before her eyes.

* * *

Catra finally managed to take the actual order.

Her brains were so scrambled she kept pressing the wrong items and having to cancel them, earning several groans and _oh, come on!_ 's from the kitchen. There was another passenger in the back who kept chiming in, which made it harder to hear the driver. Another rich kid by the looks of it.

Adora didn't say a word.

Bitterness simmered beneath Catra's skin. She didn't even attempt her customer service smile when the car pulled up to the window. She read the price out flatly.

"Two secs—" said the driver, fumbling in her designer purse for her wallet as if she hadn't this whole time to get it out. She turned to Adora, who was pointedly looking out of the other window. "So, you gonna introduce us to your friend, Adora?"

She sounded teasing, but Adora visibly grimaced. When she turned round, she still avoided Catra's eyes, which narrowed in turn. "Uh, yeah. Glimmer and Bow, this is Catra. Catra, this is Glimmer and Bow."

"Hey, Catra. Ugh, where is my stupid— oh God, I think I left my wallet at home." The driver— Glimmer— sighed. "You guys take Apple Pay, right?"

"We sure do," Catra muttered, glaring daggers at Adora.

"How do you two know each other?" Bow asked, leaning between the two front seats.

Catra's jaw clenched, but she tried not to let her upset show. "She...didn't tell me about me?"

 _"Catra."_ Adora said her name firmly, but there was an edge of pleading to her tone. "We haven't even talked in over a year."

"And whose fault is that?!" Catra was shaking. "Who _cares?_ We literally grew up together!"

"Huh?" Glimmer looked at Adora, momentarily distracted from looking for her phone. "I thought you said you were from out of state."

"Whatever she told you, she's lying." Catra couldn't deal with this. She was about to go find someone to cover for her so she could go scream down the toilet or something, but Grizzlor's bulky form blocked her in. It seemed he'd decided to show up after all. Tessaro must have threatened him.

"Hey, what's happening in here?" He stepped to the side as Catra tried to edge past him, blocking her again. "You're messing up my bev cell times."

Each part of the floor had a timer, and orders couldn't be served off until they were paid for. This one had been on the screen for nearly five minutes, which was an eternity McDonald's standards.

Grizzlor took a look at the car, and his eyes widened. "No way, _Adora?!_ Is that you?"

Adora had her head in her hands, but she lifted it to smile wryly at him. "Hey, Grizzlor."

"How've you been, kiddo? Holy shit, it's been ages!"

Adora might have been about to answer, but Tessaro's booming voice cut through everything from across the kitchen. "Catra, what is _taking_ you so long?"

"Bee, you're _never_ gonna guess who's in the drive-thru!" Grizzlor called.

Catra tensed, as did Adora, but thankfully Tessaro shouted back, "I don't care if it's the President _himself,_ Gerald, if you don't get your _sorry_ backside back into bev cell I swear to _God_ I will—"

"Alright, alright!" _Gerald_ relented, obviously not wanting to hear the rest. He nodded to Catra and gave Adora a grin. "Stop by again sometime, okay? We miss you."

"Speak for yourself," Catra muttered.

She could sense a small crowd gathering behind her. She was breathing heavily. She couldn't take this anymore. She ignored Glimmer holding out her phone and pressed exact cash. She would deal with that disciplinary later, she didn't care, she didn't _care_.

"Go," she said, already turning away, "just _go."_

Thrusting her headset onto a bewildered Scorpia, she pushed her way past the spectators and bolted to the staffroom, where she collapsed on one of the chairs, her head in her hands. Her heart was racing. Her mind was _racing._

Desperate for a distraction, she went to her locker, fumbling for her phone with shaking hands. She had three messages: a meme from Scorpia she didn't bother opening, three from Grizzlor (1) _On a scale of firing me to shoving my head in the fryer how pissed is Bee right now_ ; 2) [ A screenshot of some very unsavoury texts from 'Bee' ] 3) _Yeah better just go in haha see you in ten_ )— and one that just came in from Lonnie.

 **Lonnie:** _did you see who the FUCK just came in the drive-thru??_

She couldn't help a little snort despite everything. Even Catra herself wasn't ballsy enough to use her phone on the shop floor. If Tessaro caught her she'd probably throw the phone in the fryer and serve it to Hordak in a seeded bun.

This one she decided to actually reply to. Nothing like a bitching session with Lonnie to help her feel better.

 **Catra:** _sure the fuck did_

 **Catra:** _did she say anything to you_

 **Lonnie:** _noooope. not a word. couldn't even look at me lmaoooooo_

 **Catra:** _her new friends didn't even know who i was._

 **Lonnie:** _ouchhhh_

 **Lonnie:** _she def didn't tell them about me then_

 **Lonnie:** _maybe she's embarrassed about us lol_

 **Catra:** _lol._

 **Lonnie:** _our girl's turned into a gold digger if you ask me_

 **Lonnie:** _you know who that pink hair girl was right?_ 👀

 **Catra:** _nope_

 **Lonnie:** _you know the Fu-Brighton family?_

 **Catra:** _nope_

 **Lonnie:** _google it_

 **Lonnie:** _or i'll tell you later_

 **Lonnie:** _gotta go_

 **Lonnie:** _i threw their food at them if it makes you feel better_ 😂

 **Catra:** 👍🏽

She did not feel better.

Grizzlor came in a little while later, but he had the courtesy to knock first, which gave Catra a second to dry her eyes. Not that she was _crying_. Must have been those stupid pickle allergies or something.

"Hey, so, Bee kind of looked like she was about to either kill someone or drop dead herself, so I talked her into going home. I'm running my shift now."

"Cool." Catra sniffed. "So can we consider this my break?"

"You can go home too if you want. Hordak's on my ass about labour already." He added that last part quickly, like he was trying to make Catra think he wasn't just doing this because she was upset. She didn't even have the energy to decline his pity at this point. "Don't worry about your register, I'll sort that out.

"Okay. Thanks." Catra got up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Don't forget to grab your free break food on your way out," Grizzlor called after her as she left, "before Big Brother takes that away too."

She got another McGriddle meal. Lonnie snuck in an extra hash brown. It was already too late to catch a ride with Tessaro and she wasn't sure she could deal with her right now anyway, so she ate her food while she waited at the bus stop.

As the bus crawled its steady way through the last remnants of the morning rush, she found herself checking her phone, over and over. Dreading. Wondering. Hoping.

When she got home, she tossed her phone aside and went straight to bed.

* * *

The silence could have been cut with a knife.

Speaking of—

"Aw, come on!" Bow was the first to speak, "they didn't even give me cutlery!"

No one responded.

"Or extra syrup," he added more quietly.

Adora was balancing the tray of drinks precariously on her lap. Glimmer, for once, was paying full attention to the road. Her expression was hard to read.

She was surprised she was even still allowed in the car. That Glimmer hadn't made her bus back to her dorm, or her class, or wherever she was going to go.

If only she hadn't fallen asleep. If only she'd joined Bow in talking Glimmer out of taking that so-called shortcut to campus. Then she might have had a little more time to tell them the truth on her own terms. And she was _going_ to! She really was!

Who was she kidding. She was a fraud. Everything her friends thought they knew about her, everything they _liked_ about her—

She bit her lip, willing the tears back. She _really_ had no right to cry right now.

"So," Glimmer finally said, "is Catra from that tiny town in Tennessee too?"

Adora swallowed. "Um—"

"And that hairy guy? _And_ the girl who threw our bag at us?"

"I _knew_ that Southern accent had been fake!" Bow declared, voice high in desperation to lighten the situation.

"Yeah, we all figured that out pretty early on, Bow," said Glimmer, unamused.

"I'm sorry," said Adora pathetically.

"I'm not mad at you, Adora," said Glimmer, "I just don't know why you felt the need to lie to us."

"Yeah, we still love you," said Bow. She could see him smiling in the rear view mirror. "Secret McDonald's career and all."

Adora exhaled. She supposed it was a relief, in a way. Whatever happened, at least it would be over sooner rather than later. At least she was free of that constant underlying anxiety, whatever it would be exchanged for.

"Yeah," she said, "I guess I've got some explaining to do."


	3. McExposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very backstory/dialogue heavy and not very funny, sorry folks

Catra woke up to two new messages. She opened the one from Lonnie first.

**Lonnie:** _hey! me & the guys are going to scorpia's for pizza & queer eye, you wanna come? _

The message had come through a couple of hours ago, so they were probably already there. It took a while longer for Catra to muster up a reply, as she ran through her list of half-assed excuses in her head until she settled on the lamest one.

**Catra:** _nah i'm good, i'm not feeling well._

**Lonnie:** _oh shit sorry to hear that, lemme know if you need anything_

**Lonnie:** _you at work tomorrow?_

**Catra:** _11-7. might ask kyle to cover me since he's not working tonight._

**Lonnie:** _ok get some rest_

Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio had left the home soon after Adora did. With their three McDonald's salaries combined, they were able to afford a decent two-bedroom place this side of town, though they didn't often have money for much else; Scorpia was probably treating them to pizza. They were all out of this dump, though, that was the main thing. That was what they wanted.

A few minutes later, Lonnie messaged her again.

**Lonnie:** _kyle says he'll cover you, we kinda need the money rn so tbh you're doing us a solid here_ 😂

**Lonnie:** _scorpia says she hopes you're ok & to open her message _

She had received a message from Scorpia in that time, which she begrudgingly opened up. The one she hadn't opened before was a cat meme which earned a little guffaw; the latest was a picture of a scorpion, surrounded with heart emojis, with its stinger labelled 'my love and support'.

**Scorpia:** _Hey Catra!! I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling good. I'm here for you ok?? ily!!_ 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Her chest ached.

**Catra:** 🖤

**Catra:** _thanks scorpia_

The other message was a cold, straight-forward text from Tessaro, asking about rent.

It was only Catra and Tessaro now, in a house big enough to mostly avoid one another. She had more than once managed to go days without seeing the old crone, only communicating through the occasional text and sticky note when _absolutely_ necessary.

It was...

Well, it wasn't _good_ , by any means. The rent Tessaro charged her for the privilege of staying here now that she no longer received those foster carer checks, while much less than the cost of an apartment— a fact Tessaro _loved_ to remind her of whenever she arbitrarily decided to raise the figure— still put a dent in her pitiful paycheck. Their relationship had devolved to one of cold apathy and detached civility. She'd like to _think_ that maybe Tessaro respected her more now that she was an adult paying her own way and not a mooching child wasting the very air she breathed, but it was more likely that she just truly, honestly didn't care about her.

After transferring last week's sum, she checked her savings and sighed.

When she and Adora were younger and things were simpler, they were adamant that they were going to get a place together. When they were even younger than that, they'd planned to get married. They'd spend hours theorising about their future place— a farm cottage, a mansion, an apartment in the nice part of town— and even tried to draw their ideas, though neither of them could draw for shit, and it always made the present a little more bearable. She should have dismissed these childish fantasies far sooner than she did; Adora was ultimately being primed for better things from the start, and Catra was only good for keeping her occupied in the meantime.

As much as she enjoyed her remaining friends' company on her good days, and she was fairly sure they enjoyed hers too, she had to accept the unfortunate reality that, like Adora, they were only her friends out of obligation and convenience. Soon enough, they'd move on too, and she'd be on her own.

But _soon,_ she told herself, _soon_ she would be out of here. And when she was, she wouldn't have to rely on _anyone._ No roommates to share rent with. No friends she felt a perennial attachment to. No burned out former foster mothers who could still make her flinch with a look. And no _fucking Adora_ living in her head rent-free _._

For now, though, she was going back to sleep.

* * *

The Best Friend Squad wound up being so late for class that they ultimately opted not to go at all. Adora was fully intent on skipping the rest of the day, which was very out of character for her. Glimmer and Bow followed suit with far less reluctance. _Just don't tell my mom,_ Glimmer had urged.

Glimmer's mom was thankfully at work when they got back to hers. They went to the living room, where Adora settled herself on the egg chair, Glimmer flopped across the armchair and Bow lay on the floor with his legs on the couch.

They'd literally all slept in here last night. Their blankets were still strewn across the couch, waiting til Glimmer could be bothered to put them back in the ottoman. Funny how they had known Adora as a completely different person then.

"So," Glimmer spoke up eventually, "you're not from Tennessee, then."

"Nope," Adora answered flatly.

"You grew up here in Etheria, like us."

"Yep."

"So was Catra like...your friend from school?" Bow asked.

Adora shrugged. "Something like that."

Glimmer sat up properly, looking at her incredulously. "What does _that_ mean?"

Adora closed her eyes. Braced herself. "So. That woman you heard yelling at the hairy guy?"

"Uh-huh…"

"That." Adora exhaled. "Was our foster mom."

There was a long silence.

Bow was the first to speak this time, always the first to crack under an awkward silence even when he had nothing to say. "I'm...uh, I—" It sounded like he was about to say _I'm sorry_ , then gauged that wasn't the appropriate response, so he let the sentence die.

"Yeah," said Adora, with an unexpected flicker of frustration, _"this_ is why I didn't want to tell you. I _knew_ it would be awkward."

"It's not awkward!" Bow said quickly, very awkwardly, "I was a foster kid too once, remember? I know it...wasn't really the same thing, but—"

No, it really wasn't. Bow's dads had adopted him as a baby. Even if his family was unconventional by conservative standards, it was still a _family,_ his dads weren't getting paid by the state to look after him because no one else would.

But she didn't say that.

"You, uh, you worked at that McDonald's at some point, right?" Glimmer asked, her tone far less demanding now. "Cos I kind of gathered that."

"Uh-huh."

"So your manager— right?— was also your _mom_ _?"_

"Foster mom."

"Right. God. That must have _sucked."_

Bow made a hum of agreement.

"It was…" Adora fidgeted. "She was…"

The egg chair tipped briefly as Glimmer sat down next to her, taking her hand. Bow soon balanced it out by joining her other side, his arm around her shoulders. It was so warm and familiar and so _not_ what she deserved that she kind of wanted to cry.

She tried to breathe.

"Thank you, guys. I'm sorry, I just...don't know how to—"

"Don't worry about it." Bow squeezed her shoulder. "Take your time."

Glimmer ran her thumb over the back of Adora's palm, a comforting gesture that still sent a little tingle up Adora's arm, not necessarily an unpleasant one. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

* * *

Well, Catra's sleeping schedule was officially fucked.

At 1am, having accepted defeat in the battle to fall back asleep, she shuffled downstairs. She'd checked her phone beforehand and saw no notifications. She wondered if her friends were still awake. They'd probably had a blast.

Tessaro wasn't at work, but she seemed to be somewhere else that wasn't here, and likely didn't plan to return tonight. There was a note on the fridge, embossed in her surprisingly elegant scrawl: _Buy milk._

She used the last of the milk for a bowl of cereal and went into the living room. Switching the TV on, she flipped through various shows and movies on the Netflix account that Tessaro never used and must have forgotten she was still paying for without being able to commit to anything, half an eye on her phone all the while.

Finally, she decided on Riverdale. Good old mindless trash, just enough to keep her distracted without having to use her brain too much. As she was willfully swept away in yet another nonsensical plot line, her phone vibrated.

**( unknown number )** _hey_

* * *

"My parents lost custody of me when I was a baby. I can't remember them, obviously. Beatrix— my foster mom— said they weren't good people, and I guess she was telling the truth, I mean, you've got to really mess up for the government to take your baby away from you, right?

"So, Beatrix raised me from there. Catra came later. Then there was Lonnie— the girl who threw the food at us— Kyle, Rogelio. There were some others that came and went but I can't remember them all, it was a pretty big house. I think she inherited it or something."

"So she was looking after all these kids _and_ running a McDonald's?" Glimmer raised her eyebrows.

"She didn't always work that much," said Adora, "I think she was only part-time when we were really young. But she had other commitments, I still don't really understand what, and I remember her seeming sick a lot."

"But was she nice?"

"She…" Adora's hand was quivering; she played with the hem of her shirt. "I mean, she looked after us. She kept a roof over our head, fed us, bought us clothes. She had a temper, but she was never really violent. It's not like any of those horror stories you hear about foster parents, not by a long shot, and we're lucky she even kept us as long as she did. Some foster kids barely spend a few months in the same place.

"She was distant most of the time because she was so busy. And like, she had her bad moments, sure. But there were also those times she felt like...you know, like a mom, or at least how I imagined a mom was. Some of my favourite memories are when she read to us, she'd always e _nun_ ciate and put dramatic voices on for the characters no matter how mundane the story was. She taught _me_ to read before I even started school. She encouraged me to join all these clubs, do all these sports. She always told me I was special, I was destined for great things, and I wanted to believe her, I wanted to make her proud."

"So the other kids," said Glimmer, "they were like...your siblings? How'd she look after them all?"

"My dads had thirteen kids," Bow interjected, "they managed."

"Yeah, not at the same _time_ though, Bow," Glimmer retorted.

"It's not really the same thing as _sibling-_ siblings, I don't think. They were my friends. Catra was...everything to me, we went through everything together. We were around each other the longest and I kind of assumed we always would be. But we ended up being really different people. She got into trouble a lot, with Beatrix and later on with teachers as well, she kept getting into fights and doing stuff she _knew_ she wasn't supposed to and not even _trying,_ and I don't...I don't know, I don't _think_ she _always_ deserved it, but I sometimes just wished she would stop being so headstrong and just like, do what she was told for once, and it got so _frustrating_ because then she'd blame me for _not_ getting in trouble and act like Beatrix was playing favourites and that was somehow _my_ fault when I just knew how to _behave_ myself!"

Phew. She had to take a breathing break after that.

_"Anyway._ When we were sixteen, Beatrix started telling us we had to learn to be adults. Stop mooching and start earning our way. She was assistant store manager at that McDonald's, so it was the easiest way to do that, you can imagine there aren't a lot of job prospects in that part of town. I only worked Saturdays and some evenings because I was focusing on my grades and my extracurriculars so I could get a scholarship on my own merit rather than mooching off the state, but it was a fun time; the work sucked and the customers were the _worst_ but we had each other and my other colleagues were cool as well. Catra ended up dropping out of high school a few months later and started working full time. I think Lonnie was the only other one who actually made it to graduation in the end, and she didn't really do anything with it. When I got into college with a full ride, I thought all my friends would be happy for me, but they...really weren't, or at least the foster kids weren't. _Especially_ Catra, oh my God, I don't think I'd ever _seen_ her so livid, and she had a _temper,_ guys, you kind of saw that, right? She didn't say a word to me all summer, then after I left she blocked me on everything so staying in touch was just out ot the question. I'm pretty sure the last thing she said to me was _I hate you."_

_"Ouch."_

"Yeah." Adora looked down, shrugging. Her throat was tight.

"It sounds like it wasn't... _too_ bad, overall," Glimmer said, sounding uncertain, "what about your foster mom? Doesn't she still talk to you?"

"When I got accepted, I decided to live on campus. Transport links aren't great from that part of town. And I thought...you know, after all this learning-to-be-an-adult stuff, it was the right thing to do."

"And it was, wasn't it?" Bow tilted his head. "You like living on campus."

"I do." She bit her lip. "But it wasn't what she wanted."

"You're an adult, Adora," Glimmer said firmly, "if she can't accept you making your own choices that's _her_ problem."

That was the resentfully sheltered rich girl in her talking. She didn't understand. She never would.

"She was just worried for me," Adora insisted, defensive, "she wanted me to go to college, but she didn't want me to live on-campus. She said I didn't have the life skills to make it on my own. She kept trying to convince me not to leave. Then when I left she tried to convince me to come back. Part of me thought I'd impress her if I proved her wrong, but then she stopped talking to me too. I can't really blame her."

"That doesn't sound right." Bow's brow furrowed. "It doesn't sound like they were being fair to you, you were just going to college. It's not even like you went out of state."

"I wish _I_ went out of state sometimes," Glimmer grumbled, then she looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry. Carry on."

"It's fine. I guess _I_ could have tried harder to reach out." Adora managed a little smile. "Plus, I got to meet you guys."

"And we're really glad you did," said Bow, returning the smile.

"But why didn't you tell us you were a foster kid?" asked Glimmer.

Adora swallowed the lump in her throat. "Look, I— I didn't ever _want_ to mislead you. And I know you said you're not mad, but I'm still sorry." She quickly waved her hand when the other two tried to protest. "The _big_ reason I moved out was because I just wanted college to be a fresh start, I wanted to know what it was like to be normal. I was always treated differently in school, like some kind of charity case. No matter what I did, I was still the poor little orphan girl. It was _miraculous_ and _inspiring_ whenever I succeeded, even if it was just a normal milestone, like my accomplishments weren't just mine, it was representative of like...what all foster kids could achieve if they, I don't know, had the right 'guidance' or tried hard enough. It didn't help that the others kind of had...issues with school, and I was the standard they were all held against, like if I could do it, why couldn't they? Beatrix replicated that at home, which kinda...anyway, that's besides the point." Her eyes were downcast, her heart heavy. "In college, nobody knew who was or where I came from. We were all on the exact same playing field, just trying to find our people. Then I met you guys and you were so _cool_ and you came from such _amazing_ families and I _really_ wanted to be a part of your— your _thing,_ and it was great until people started asking about _my_ family, and I just...I...had to lie, I _had_ to. I'm nowhere near a good enough liar to fabricate, like, a stable loving family, but I figured country bumpkin hitting the big city was a better backstory than orphan girl who ditched her foster family. _I_ like it better, at least. I've always wanted a horse."

Bow's face fell, aghast. "Wait— you mean Swifty isn't real either?"

"What did you think, Bow?" Glimmer quirked an eyebrow at him, "that she just kept this whole ass horse in her _garage?"_

"Well, I don't know!" Bow protested. "I know there's stables nearby, my dads used to take us horse riding up there in the summers. I mean, _we_ didn't have our own horses, I don't think they could afford thirteen, but you remember that horse girl in grade school, don't you, Glimmer?"

"I try not to," Glimmer said quietly.

"Yeah, no," Adora shook her head, "Beatrix never did any of that stuff with us, she didn't like animals. Me and Catra did try to keep this giant centipede we found one time, after I talked her out of putting him in Beatrix's bed, but Kyle was too scared to live under the same roof as Mr Legs so we had to let him go." She found herself smiling wistfully at the memory. "I wonder how he's doing."

"I don't know who Kyle is but I don't think I'd wanna live with Mr Legs either." Bow shivered. "Ladybugs, though— _there's_ a bug I can vibe with."

"What about butterflies?" Adora asked.

"Pretty til you get up close," said Bow, "I don't like their legs. Frankly, I don't think _anything_ needs to have more than four legs."

_"Anyway,"_ Glimmer cut in, trying to steer the conversation away from this weird tangent, "to be honest, I could tell you were kinda holding back about some stuff, but I didn't wanna push you. When you said you were from rural Tennessee and you didn't get along with your family, I just assumed it was because you were…"

It was like she expected Adora to finish the sentence, but she only blinked in confusion. "Because I was what?"

"Uh." Glimmer exchanged a glance with Bow. "Nevermind."

"We'll have that conversation some other time," said Bow, patting Adora's back.

"I did really _want_ to tell you," said Adora, "I just never found the right time, and the longer I held back the truth the more I had to lie, and the worst I felt about it, and I'm just…" She bit her lip, her voice wavering. "I'm not really in the business of losing any more friends."

"Well unfortunately," Glimmer grinned, bright as the sun, "it's gonna take a whole lot more than lying about your entire life to get rid of us, Adora." Then she took her hand again. "This isn't gonna change anything, okay? I just need you to know you _can_ tell us stuff, okay?”

"You got that right," said Bow, "the day you lose us is the day that damn ice cream machine works. Which is _never."_

Adora sniffed, wiping her eyes with a watery smile. "Thanks, guys." As the three embraced, she spoke up again. "At least I can say I was telling the truth about one thing."

"And what was that?"

"I _really_ don't like McDonald's."

* * *

Tessaro came back earlier than expected.

Catra was drifting off on the couch when the slam of the front door sent vibrations up the walls and her heart scurrying up her throat. It was a sign that Tessaro had returned home in a foul mood, and used to be Catra's cue to make herself scarce, but she willed herself to stay put. She wasn't that scared kid anymore.

(As relieved as she momentarily was when she heard footsteps retreat up the stairs.)

She woke up her phone to check the time. The message lit up on her homescreen. Realisation hit her _instantly_ and she tossed it aside like a hot coal, almost tripping in her haste to get up.

Tessaro was already on the landing when Catra emerged into the hallway. She called her name quietly, perhaps part of her hoping she wouldn't hear— but she did. She turned. Her former guardian had already slid her mask off, wearing it round her neck like a noose, looking even more marred and gaunt and ghastly under the dim underhead light. Catra fought the instinct to look away; forced herself to meet her eyes.

She had to wonder how she used to be afraid of such a frail woman. She had to wonder why she still was.

_"Well?"_

Catra straightened herself, but she still felt small under the weight of Tessaro's gaze. Cold speculation, cold disdain, almost _daring_ her to go on.

She had never looked at Adora like that.

Her stiffened shoulders fell limp. No, she wasn't going to tell her about Adora. Why _was_ she going to tell her about Adora?

"Do you hate me?" is what came out instead.

Tessaro said nothing.

"Do you hate me?" she repeated, and she resented how her pitch rose with her voice.

"No, Catra," Tessaro finally answered, "I don't hate you."

It was almost sincere, it was _almost_ satisfactory for now, until she added, "is _that_ what you wanted to hear?"

Catra clenched her teeth. She swallowed. "Okay."

She turned and trudged back to the living room without another word.

"Make sure you turn the TV off before you go to bed," Tessaro said after her. Catra ignored her, making a mental note to purposefully _not_ do that.

Back on the couch, she unlocked her phone and opened the message. Her thumb automatically went for the block option, where it hovered, quivering. In the end she just hit delete and lay back down, drawing her knees to her chest. Her stomach was killing her. Thank _God_ she wasn't going to work today.

* * *

Whereas Catra had slept through the day, Adora lay awake through the night.

In her lonely bed in her lonely dorm, she tossed and turned and buried her face in her pillow to groan in frustration. Bow and Glimmer had spent the day trying their best to take her mind off Catra and everything else, they had tried so hard she literally felt guilty that it didn't work. Glimmer even asked if she wanted to stay over again, but she felt she had overstayed her welcome.

Her phone lit up next to her and she snatched it instantly, not sure what she was expecting. It turned out to be a Snapchat notification. She barely even _used_ Snapchat.

Without thinking, trying _not_ to think, she opened up her contacts. Catra had blocked her old number, but she'd bought a new phone since then. She'd forgotten to turn off the option to sync her old data, so Catra's name had found its way onto her contact list once more, and she could never quite bring herself to delete it.

She found the name now, typed out those three letters and hit send, then quickly locked her phone again. Initially she was sure she'd never sleep now, but at one point she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again sunlight was streaming in through the cheap curtains, and she could hear her roommate groggily cussing out her alarm.

As she went to hit snooze, a quick look at her notifications confirmed what she knew already: Adora Brand was, as Catra would have put it, a dumbface.


	4. McDonald's Broke

"I saw Hordak the other night." Catra responded to the announcement with a noncommittal noise, clearly not in the mood for gossip, but Scorpia only took that as an invitation to continue. "Yup. We were at this restaurant in Silaneas for my mom's birthday— you know, that one that does the octopus?— and bam, there he was! _And_ he had a little lady friend with him." She beamed as Catra perked up, suddenly interested. "It was so funny, they waltzed on in, all ready to get a table, Hordak spotted me, and he just took the girl's arm and ran for it. What, doesn't he want his employees to know about his lil _date?_ I would've made them a card and everything!"

 _Maybe_ that's _why he didn't want_ you _to know,_ Catra thought, but she didn't say it. 

Meanwhile, in her peripheral vision, Lonnie almost dropped the basket of frozen fries she was holding. "Wait— a _lady_ , you said?" 

"She sure did," Catra answered for her, throwing Lonnie smirk. Hordak wasn't gay. Now Lonnie owed her $20. 

"What did she look like?" Kyle asked from the grills. He wasn't part of the bet, he was just nosy. 

"Was she pretty?" asked some new girl Catra hadn't bothered learning the name of because she knew she wouldn't last.

"Really pretty," said Scorpia, who thought all girls were really pretty, "small. Purple hair. Glasses. Uh, kinda young." 

Catra snorted at that. Hordak's brother, who everyone called Prime (or Big Brother, but not when potential snitches were within earshot), was the owner of the franchise, and among few things the elusive figure was known for was his affinity for younger women. Not young enough to break any laws, of course, but there always seemed to be enough of an age gap to raise some eyebrows. 

"Guess it runs in the family," she said, and she turned to Lonnie. It wasn't often that Catra won _anything_ , so of course she was going to revel in her victory. "So, you wanna pay by cash or PayPal?"

Yeesh, this poor girl. 

Not Catra's problem, though— she was getting $20 dollars out of her.

Lonnie flipped her off as she placed the basket of fries in the vat. She pressed the timer, squinted, pressed it again, then stepped back, bemused. "Uh, Grizzlor? I think the fryer's switched itself off." 

"What?" Grizzlor, who was putting together an UberEats order, abandoned his bag to investigate (to, Catra could see from here, the great dismay of the waiting driver in the lobby) . He did the exact same thing Lonnie had— pressing the timer, squinting, pressing it again— and stepped back just as well, his hands on his hips. "Hm." 

"What's the prognosis, doc?" Catra asked, even more glad Cobalt had put her on prep away from the customers. 

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Catra, I have no fucking idea." Grizzlor sighed. _"And_ Cobalt's still on his break. Oh jeez." 

There was a small scream from bev cell then. The kid, another new starter, stepped out, covered head to toe in exploded milkshake. "Sir, um…" 

Grizzlor exhaled, then clapped his hands together with a very forced grin. "Okay! No fries, no milkshake, no ice cream! We can do this, right, team?" 

"Or soda," came the crew trainer's voice from bev cell, "it's doing that thing again." 

_That thing_ threw Catra back to that one nightmare shift last week, where the soda fountain was only spitting out mildly flavoured, mildly carbonated water. For hours Tessaro had refused to just take sodas off the menus, so it was a matter of just continually remaking drinks for complaining customers, knowing full well they would just turn out the exact same. That was just life, really, wasn't it?

"Or soda." Grizzlor deflated. "Right. Okay. I'll go get Cobalt." 

As he left, the employees hovered in their stations, unsure of what to do in this anarchy of no fries, no milkshake, no ice cream and no manager. Lonnie quickly finished the UberEats order so the driver could stop glowering at them, but as for the other customers— 

"Are we still serving?" Octavia called from the front register. 

"I guess?" Lonnie called back, "just tell them we don't have fries."

"The fuck do you _mean_ you ain't got fries?" An eavesdropping customer's voice rose over every other sound in the restaurant. Staff and other customers exchanged awkward glances among themselves; Catra saw a mom covering her child's ears. "I swear to God, y'all couldn't run a fucking—"

Catra tuned him out. The new kid in bev cell called in a quivering voice, "is Grizzlor still there? Tell him we can't do frappes either, and there's still milkshake orders coming on-screen—" 

"I think the chicken vats have turned off too," said Scorpia, "that or I, uh, broke them by looking at them. Kinda sounds like something I'd do." She laughed awkwardly, but no one joined in. 

"Oh my God," Catra muttered. She was starting to get second-hand stress now. Her stomach was in knots.

When Grizzlor returned with Cobalt, the slightly more seasoned manager turned out to be even more useless. He went through the same three steps, _again,_ on each one of the vats, then came to the most useless conclusion ever: "We should probably call Hordak." 

Grizzlor looked doubtful, but he attempted anyway; predictably, there was no answer. "Okay, great. What now?" 

Cobalt looked around, taking in the expectant eyes of purposeless employees, and the tension rising like a stormcloud over the lobby of increasingly impatient customers. He let out a weighty exhale. "I think...we'll have to close the store." 

"We can't just close the store, can we?" Grizzlor hissed, as if he didn't want the customers or somehow upper-management to hear him, "don't we need to ask someone?" 

"And who do you suppose we ask?" Cobalt exploded. Catra felt a little bit of that smugness resurfacing beneath the anxiety. Nothing like watching how much even the managers who thought they were hot shit unravelled under pressure. 

"Uh…" Grizzlor swallowed. "Beatrix...? Maybe?"

"Oh, _sure!"_ Cobalt threw his hands up. "Go on then, call Beatrix Tessaro on her day off, see how _that_ goes."

Grizzlor's expression fell. He swallowed again, then turned to Catra. "Say, Catra, you want an early day?" 

Relief washed over her, despite knowing full well what Grizzlor was trying to do. "Do you even have to ask?" 

"Wh— hey— ow!" Distracted, Kyle let out a cry as he burned himself on the still perfectly functional grills. _"Catra!_ You can't leave us! Oh, _God_ , that hurts—"

"Sorry, guys," Catra said, already turning from her colleagues to avoid those eyes that all seemed to plead a similar sentiment, "every employee for herself. I'm out." Lonnie glared at her as she sauntered from the impending apocalypse with a spring to her step, and she just gave a little wave. "Good luck!"

"Catra, since you're—" Cobalt called after her.

Catra waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I'll call her."

One of the few perks of this type of job was that sheer lack of responsibility, the sheer lack of guilt for leaving behind a total disaster zone. She could have the worst shift imaginable, everything that _could_ go wrong could go wrong, and it would roll off her back she clocked out. Not her problem, not her circus, not her monkeys. It was why she vowed to never get promoted above crew trainer, because people actually expected things from managers. Once she stabbed her numbers in she wiped her hands on her trousers, as if washing her hands of her shift, and left the shithole of a store in a far better mood than she'd been in this morning. She couldn't even muster up any concern over the wages she was losing out on for leaving early twice in one week, she was just glad to be out of there. 

God she needed a better job. 

Unlike Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, Catra wasn't afraid of Tessaro's wrath because she knew her well enough to know that there wouldn't be any. There was no _way_ Tessaro was about to get involved in this in any capacity on her first day off in two weeks. A burned-out Tessaro could still get mad about anything else under the sun, but she needed to recharge for a day or two before she started getting mad about work again.

Once Catra was on the bus, she sent her a quick text: _mcdonald's broke_

Tessaro's reply was instantaneous: _What?_

 **Catra:** _like everything. the whole store. broke._

 **Tessaro:** _..._

 **Tessaro:** _And whose shift is it?_

 **Catra:** _cobalt_

 **Catra:** _he wants to know if he can close the store_

 **Tessaro:** _Close the store, burn it to the ground and sprinkle the ashes with salt._

 **Tessaro:** _And tell Cobalt that if he wants any more of my input on my day off, come to me directly so I can crack his bald head open like an egg._

Yeah, not too mad then. 

**Catra:** _ok_

She text Cobalt: _tessaro says you can close the store_ — then put her phone away. 

As the bus trawled along, it didn't take long for her high spirits to dissipate. At the next stop a man sat down next to her, and she didn't like the way he leered at her; couldn't fathom what could _possibly_ be appealing about a tired, frizzy-haired nineteen year old in a McDonald's uniform to anyone _but_ a total creep. She put her earbuds in and shifted as far away as her seat would allow, turning her gaze out the window. 

Like a lot of completely _random_ things over the past couple of days, learning of Hordak's new girlfriend (she hoped, she wasn't giving Lonnie back that $20) in Silaneas seemed to have pulled another bittersweet memory up from the dregs. The less she tried to remember, the more adamant it was to play over in her mind, in flashes and feelings that made her heart ache. When her stop was finally announced she hoped her walk home could distract her, but it was as if the entire world just wanted her to suffer. The palm trees lining the roads before she turned into her own barren street reminded her of the beachfront; even the mild spring breeze reminded her of that frigid January wind. 

The house seemed to be empty when she got there. She went to the kitchen to get some cereal, only to remember she'd never actually gotten around to buying milk. As she went to see if there was anything in the freezer, her ears were alerted to…

She slowly rose, eyes narrowing. 

What. was _happening_. 

Curiosity got the better of her. She followed the distant lure of Fleetwood Mac to the backyard. 

Tessaro _never_ went into the backyard, at least as far as Catra knew. For as long as she could remember the place had been left to its own devices, allowed to grow dilapidated and wild. She and Adora used to pretend they were venturing through a jungle, holding hands as they'd easily lose each other in the overgrown grass otherwise. They would find various treasures on their travels: old cans, cigarette butts; God only knew what else. 

What she saw now was an entirely different scene. It looked like Tessaro had spent the morning pulling the whole thing up. She was pruning a rose bush when Catra stepped out onto the freshly-swept deck— she hadn't even realised there _was_ a rose bush.

"You're back early," the apparent green thumb commented without turning.

Although Tessaro's tone was often indiscernible, Catra had learned to pick up on the little things that indicated her current temperament. Even from behind, she could tell from the relaxed slope to her shoulders that she was in one of her better moods today. 

(Not _happy,_ of course. She was pretty sure she had never seen Tessaro happy.)

Their exchange from the other night still echoed in her mind, and the answer seemed fairly obvious as bizarre as it was, but still she couldn't help but ask, "what are you _doing?"_

"Gardening," was Tessaro's matter-of-fact answer. 

"Oh." Catra glanced at the giant shears in her hand. Then to Tessaro's phone, where the music was coming from, the kind of music that made Catra picture a figure in flowing skirts twirling in the forest, on what appeared to be a new table. "Any...reason?" 

"I'm expecting company in an hour." It was hard to tell if that was the reason or just a statement, as the older woman tossed another dead rose to the side. "So I suggest you gather what you need and make yourself scarce." 

Well, this just kept getting weirder. _"You_ have company?" Catra spluttered.

"I have a _life_ outside of that restaurant and outside of _you,_ Catra." Tessaro readjusted her mask and turned, shears glinting in the sunlight— she could and absolutely _would_ kill someone with those things. "Why are you still here? _Go."_

"Look—" Catra found herself stepping back, but she still stood her ground. "I'm not gonna interrupt your little garden party or whatever. Can't I just stay in my room? Where do you want me to _go?_ " 

"That's no concern of mine." She reached down to gather the discarded flowers. "Even _you_ have friends, surely."

That shouldn't have stung as much as it did. "So is this an overnight thing, or…?"

_"Catra."_

The shift in Tessaro's tone was all the convincing she needed. 

She changed out of her uniform and packed an overnight bag just in case. Lonnie and Kyle were presumably still at work, and probably wanted her dead, but she knew Rogelio was off, so she sent him a message on Snapchat, the only platform she knew he used: _got kicked out for the night lol. can i come over_

Rogelio responded with a thumbs up emoji. 

Despite how little she wanted to know, wanted to even _think_ about it, it was hard not to spend her journey speculating just who the hell Tessaro was having over. A witches' coven? Probably. The Mafia? She could see it. Luring a victim to their place of death? Possibly in conjunction with one or both of the other two. The Witch Mafia. A sacrificial whacking. 

Or maybe she was just having friends over, but nah, that was a little _too_ outlandish. 

As a Fleetwood Mac song came on her own playlist, a horrifying thought flashed in her mind: _Have I just been sexiled by Beatrix Tessaro?_

She slumped in her seat. God, she felt like shit. 

Rogelio had never been a boy of many words. Now he was a man of even less words. Not always the most fun person to hang out with, but he was a good for when Catra just needed someone to vent to without any unwanted input. 

And vent she did. He let her in and she dumped her bag on the floor and collapsed on the derelict couch and poured the contents of her head and heart across the floor while Rogelio just listened, occasionally checking his phone, occasionally giving an affirming grunt or hum when needed, and that was it, just the way Catra liked it.

She ranted about work, how much waking up on the morning of another shift made her want to die; she ranted about Tessaro, and how having her as a boss and passive-aggressive roommate wasn't much better than having her as a foster mother. Then she ranted about Adora. How she'd always been so _up herself,_ so _perfect_ in everyone's eyes and her own; how she'd left, how she'd just _left,_ just like that; how she'd had the _nerve_ to show up at her fucking _work_ of all places after all this time, _knowing_ Catra would most likely be on order-taking, new rich friends in tow, who she hadn't even _told_ about her— how after everything, _everything_ they'd been through, Adora had _clearly_ just moved on, to better things and better people, like Catra had never even _mattered._ How Catra had at least thought she was over her too, but since seeing that stupid face and that _stupid_ ponytail she couldn't stop _thinking_ about her and it was driving her _crazy._

When she took some time to catch her breath, Rogelio turned out to have something to say after all. Just hearing his voice at all was enough to throw her right off her tracks, and that was before she could even process his words. 

"Maybe you should talk to her."

* * *

Silaneas was a beachside resort on the nice side of town. Lined with hotels and restaurant where Catra could never dream of affording a night or a meal at, it was the pier she had always been drawn to. They'd been a few times, Catra and Adora and the others, but it was mostly a matter of wandering the beach and looking up longingly at the amusement park and game and concession stands, never having the money to even get in. 

By Adora's 17th birthday, that had all changed. They all had an income now, and while it was basically peanuts, money was money and birthdays were as great a time as any to blow however much of it they'd managed to save on a day of mindless fun, God knows they needed it.

The pier was quiet compared to the summer months, but the amusement attractions were still in operation. It was unusually cold, the kind of cold that made Catra once again regret not investing some of her wages into a decent jacket, but Adora's hand was warm as it clasped hers. 

"Oh my God," she whispered. 

Catra followed her mystified gaze to one of the game stalls. Suspended from the roof were various stuffed animals, including— what she figured Adora was staring at— a unicorn the size of a small child. 

"You want it?" Catra asked her, reaching for her wallet. 

"Well…" Adora dithered. She always hated asking for stuff.

"Oh, come _on."_ Lonnie rolled her eyes. "You guys know those things are rigged, right? Let's go on the ferris wheel, I bet the views are amazing."

In the tickets queue, Catra began to get a little antsy. She said something about suddenly remembering she hated heights and slipped away before anyone could stop her. 

She smiled cockily as the guy manning the stall spotted her and called her over, cracking her knuckles. _I've got this._

As it turned out, she did not have it. Lonnie must have been right about this being rigged, because there was no _way_ tossing a ring over a bottle should have been _this_ impossible. Her funds depleted, her frustration mounted, she turned to the smug stallholder. "Is there a way I can just buy one of those unicorns?" 

"Sure thing, kid," he said with a grin, even though he didn't look much older than her, "two hundred bucks." 

Catra's jaw clenched. "Fine, I'll fight you for it." 

There was a hand on her shoulder then.

"Sorry." Adora raised her hands as Catra swung round, instinctively on the defense. Her friend looked at the stallholder, then at her, and frowned a little. "Uh, Catra, how much money have you spent?" 

"Thirty bucks," the stallholder answered for her, despite the threatening look Catra shot his way; his grin was lopsided and very, very punchable. "you've got a real keeper here, girly." 

"Hey!" Catra felt her cheeks burning. "We're not—"

But then Adora looped her arm through hers, and she decided this jerk wasn't worth the energy. 

"I'll buy you some donuts," she said, smiling, "come on." 

They shared a bag of ridiculously sugary donuts by the viewing point, the wind tousling their hair and chilling Catra to the bone. She had to grit her teeth to stop them from chattering, but Adora noticed anyway. 

"Do you want my scarf?" she asked, raising a brow. Without waiting for an answer she untied her scarf and wrapped it around Catra, bringing it right up to her chin.

"Thanks, now I feel like a snowman," Catra grumbled. She couldn't actually complain, though, the scarf _was_ pretty warm, and it smelled nice. She withdrew a little, sliding an inch away on the bench, wrapping her arms around herself with a sigh. 

"What's up?" Adora asked, reaching for her arm.

Catra looked towards the sea. The sun was beginning to set, circling seagulls silhouetted against the darkening sky. "I just wish I won you that stupid unicorn."

"Trust me, that you tried so hard is _more_ than enough," Adora assured, her hand settling on her shoulder. "Though you realise you could've probably just _bought_ something like that for thirty dollars, right?" She added teasingly. 

"Yeah, but I wanted _victory."_ Catra huffed. "That way _you_ would've got the unicorn, and _I_ would have got the satisfaction of rubbing it in that asshole's _face."_

"Catra!" Adora nearly choked on her donut, shoving her shoulder. "Why are you _like_ this?" 

They both laughed, the weight of defeat soon lifting from Catra's shoulders. She felt light. Lighter than she had in a while. She shifted closer again. 

The sky around them was streaked in fiery hues, the same colours that danced on the waves as the lights of the amusement park flared to life. The sea was calm despite the wind, glimmering to an endless horizon. 

Catra gazed out. She could feel Adora staring at her. 

"Crazy, isn't it?" she murmured without thinking.

"What is?" In the corner of her eye, Adora tilted her head. 

"That there's just _all_ that ocean right in front of us, hundreds and hundreds of miles of it, and the next stop is like...Europe." She thought about it. "Or is it Africa?" 

Adora hummed. "I think it's Africa." 

"Whatever." Catra looked to the last of the sun's rays disappearing where the sky met the sea, wondering, imagining. "We're gonna go to both. _And_ everywhere else. I can't _wait_ to get out of this dump." 

"I think I need to graduate high school before we think about travelling the world," said Adora, yanking Catra down from the clouds and back the present, "and we _really_ need better jobs."

"I guess." Catra shrugged. "But one day."

"One day," Adora concurred. 

To be fair, the present wasn't too bad either right now. 

They both reached for the last donut at the same time and laughed again, nervously, as their hands met in the bag. Catra blew at a strand of hair that had fallen in her face and Adora reached to tuck it behind her ear, knuckles ghosting Catra's cheek. 

"You big dumbface," she murmured, eyes soft and wistful, and Catra's fingers twitched, wanting to take her hand and hold it where it was; she wanted to— 

Then Kyle and Lonnie's overlapping voices called to them from the concession stands— something about the rollercoaster, how it's supposed to be _amazing_ at night, and there was no queue so they had to come _right now hurry up_ — and Adora quickly drew back her hand, and just like that, the moment was gone. 

There would be more moments like that. Moments when Catra wanted to say something and didn't; wanted to do something and didn't. 

Then, a few months later, Adora got her college acceptance letter, and just like that, none of that had ever mattered at all. 

* * *

Rogelio rose from the couch and went to the kitchen, presumably to make food, leaving Catra to mull over what he'd said.

She took out her phone, and cursed under her breath as she remembered she had deleted Adora's text. She didn't have her number now. What next? Facebook? Did Adora even still use Facebook? Did _anyone_ under 30 still use Facebook? It was worth a shot, she supposed. 

It was always weird seeing her birth name staring her in the face in the once in the blue moon Catra actually opened her Facebook app these days. Facebook had done a stupid ID check on her a couple years ago after she got into a perfectly civil, measured debate with someone in a news article comments section. Not even her teachers used to use that name. Not even _Tessaro_ ever used that name. 

Her blocklist was pretty long, and she couldn't even remember who most of them were. She found Adora's name and unblocked her, then went to her profile to check for activity. Adora had changed her profile picture, so she'd at least been on in the past year or so; the awkward photo of her and Lonnie at senior prom, part of what had prompted Catra to block her to start with because it just made her feel sick to look at it, had been replaced with one of her, Glimmer and that guy (she checked the tags and found his name was Bow Fletcher) standing before a skyline that didn't look like it was in America. The location was tagged as Taipei 101, which clicking on revealed was in Taiwan. 

Something fiery rose in her throat. What the hell was Adora doing in _Taiwan?_

She already wanted to close the app, but she forced herself to keep snooping— just to make extra sure that Adora was still active, obviously. Most of the posts available for public viewing were tagged photos from people she didn't recognise. Some of them were from parties. Adora was smiling in those too, but Catra knew _that_ smile: the smile when Adora was really out of her element, and was trying _really_ hard to pretend she wasn't. 

Catra felt a flicker of grim satisfaction at that. At least not _everything_ had changed.

She'd seen enough, so she scrolled back up to send a message request. 

Closure. Closure was what she needed. And until she had it, she wasn't letting Adora move on again either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning might SEEM a little outlandish but something similar actually happened at my workplace...on my second shift
> 
>  **Cobalt** is another minor Horde character, he's the blue Commander guy


	5. McLesbian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Glimmadora because I'm even more self-indulgent trash than I thought 
> 
> There's also no McDonald's in this chapter, oops 
> 
> **Warnings:** Underage drinking (all characters are over 18); internalised homophobia; mentions of RL homophobia, homophobic bullying and parent death(?)/grief

With Angella gone for the night, it was time for the Best Friend Squad to let loose. 

The three of them were in Glimmer's room. Adora was wearing her headphones, eyes trained on her laptop as she tried and failed to construct an organised outline for the essay she was ultimately just going to end up coughing out the night before it was due. Bow, as usual, was all caught up on his coursework in advance, so he was just playing Animal Crossing; Glimmer was not, so naturally, she was watching Friends. The TV kept flickering in Adora's peripheral vision, drawing her eyes from one screen to the other. She knew she could have told Glimmer to turn it off, or simply have gone to one of the house's many other rooms, but she also knew she could have retreated to the Void itself and still found something to distract her from this dumb essay. 

No one had said a word in at least forty minutes when Bow finally spoke up. "So! Who wants pizza?"

Sunken into her bean-bag chair, Glimmer lazily half-raised a hand. "You know what I like." 

"I sure do." He turned to Adora. "What about you, Adora? My treat." 

He never told Glimmer whether he was buying because he knew money was no object to her either way. Adora, on the other hand, may have been fortunate enough to have her scholarship covering her tuition and rent, but it didn't leave much leftover in the way of takeout or other such luxuries. Rather than leave her out, Bow and Glimmer would simply take it in turns to treat her, and there was really no non-stubborn nor non-ungrateful way to articulate how small this made her feel. How many other people from her background could say they were so lucky? 

Besides, any reluctance was promptly overridden by the growl in her stomach. Embarrassed, she tried to silence it by shifting her position on Glimmer's futon, glaring at her screen like that would help her focus. "Yes please." 

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt hyperfocus mode." He turned back to Glimmer. "Hey, don't _you_ have an essay due in like, two days?" 

"Yup." Glimmer popped the _p_. 

"Do you even...like this show?" 

"Nope."

"So do your essay." 

"No."

Bow gave up, already opening the app. "Do you know when your mom's back?" 

_"Noooo_ idea." Glimmer rolled her eyes. "Which is _really_ funny, because you know if _I_ disappeared and didn't tell _her_ where _I_ was going—" 

Adora's focus was flitting back and forth between the two like she was watching a tennis match. She could hear their conversation over her music, and if she turned it up to drown them out her curiosity ended up prevailing over her concentration. Accepting defeat, she saved what little she'd done and closed the window with a sigh. 

Try as she may, she couldn't really understand what Glimmer was so bothered about no matter how much she went on. It wasn't as if she knew where Beatrix was when she would disappear at all hours. In all honesty, the more she'd opened up about her foster family since coming clean, the less she realised she actually knew about the woman who raised her, especially compared with how much Bow and Glimmer could tell her about _their_ parents. She'd always assumed it was a parent's right not to tell their child everything, but maybe that was that just one of the differences between real parents and foster parents.

So as always when she didn't understand, she just stayed quiet and idly nodded along. Bow did the same because he was busy ordering. 

"I'll get her one anyway," Bow finally said once Glimmer had ranted herself out, "she can always have it for breakfast." 

_"If_ she's back by then," Glimmer grumbled. She sat up, finally turning that awful show off. "Are you guys bored? Because I am _bored."_

"Well you could always—" 

"I'll do the essay _tomorrow,_ Bow." She stretched, and Adora had to stop herself from looking as her shirt rose over her tanned midriff. "Well, since mom's gone, I guess we could invite more people over. Liven things up a bit." 

"A party?" Bow raised a brow. "On a school night?" 

"Not a party." Glimmer had her phone out, typing rapidly, probably already messaging the group chat Adora never checked unless someone told her to. "A _gathering."_

"Right." Bow went back to his app. "Guess I'll order more pizza." 

Adora decided she might as well check her social media while she still had her laptop out. Her Twitter was dead, her Instagram even deader. Facebook, sure enough, had a new notification from the group chat, which she opened just to get rid of it.

...And there was a message request. 

Oh no.

Bracing herself for a dick pic, or something relating to that incensed political debate she got into when she was a little drunk last Friday, she went into her requests to quickly decline— but what she found was even more jarring.

"Holy _shit,"_ she whispered. 

It wasn't often that Adora cursed, so the other two were immediately alert.

"What's up?"

"You okay?"

The second Adora was able to move she nearly tossed her laptop like it was on fire, scrambling back as far as the futon would allow. "Catra just messaged me."

_"What?"_

"What did she say?!" 

Bow's eyes were wide in infuriated concern, and Glimmer looked about ready to throttle a bitch, but when Adora wordlessly turned the laptop around, riled expressions fell to confusion. 

_"...Hey, Adora?"_ Glimmer read out. 

"What do I say?" Adora waved her hands frantically.

"Well…" Bow stroked his chin. "You could start with _hey, Catra."_

"Would that work?" Adora turned the laptop back round to herself, her heart racing. "It's just been so _long_ , I— oh God, _oh God."_

"I mean, it's a message request," said Bow, "she won't know you've seen it til you click accept. Nothing's stopping you from taking a little _more_ time." 

"Or not replying at all," Glimmer interjected. 

"No, no, I do _want_ to talk to her, I think, I just…" Adora buried her face in her hands, then dragged them down and set them on the keyboard, exhaling. "Okay. Okay. I've got this. Uh…" She glanced between the two, who were now sitting on either side of her, intently staring at the screen. "You don't have to…" They both slipped off the futon with murmured apologies, leaving Adora alone, staring and staring and staring until the words no longer looked like words.

 **Cyra Fahad:** _hey adora (:_

* * *

"Hey, is it me, or does Vee Parker seem kinda _familiar?"_

"In what _way,_ Kyle?" Lonnie asked with exhaustion. 

Kyle shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel like I've met her." 

"Yeah," Catra said, her mind on other matters, "I think it's just you." 

_"Seriously,_ Kyle." Lonnie lightly kicked him. "If you're gonna keep interrupting with your stupid commentary at least have something to _say_."

Lonnie and Kyle _had_ kind of wanted to kill Catra when they came home to find the deserter crashing on their couch, but they seemed more at each other's throats than hers. There'd apparently been some incident afterwards that they both had wildly different accounts of, neither of which Catra really listened to because she didn't care. With Rogelio's help, they'd settled down enough to continue season two of their Orange is the New Black rewatch (a rewatch for Lonnie and Catra, at least, who'd been appalled to realise Kyle and Rogelio had never watched it at all), but Catra wasn't paying much attention. She was too busy staring at her phone. In particular, a message; a response she didn't know if she expected, didn't know if she wanted. 

**Adora Brand:** _hi_

* * *

The party— sorry, the _gathering_ — was considerably small, but still enough of a party that Adora was quickly feeling like an observer, an invader, like she shouldn't be there. Perfuma Ka'uhane, the begrudging designated driver (considering how much she hated cars and their impact on the planet), arrived first, with Mermista Khan and her annoying boyfriend Sea Hawk— Sebastian Hawkins— in tow. Cynthia Spinner and her fiancée Vivian Nkansah provided the alcohol. Entrapta Hernández arrived last, and unannounced, but Bow had thankfully ordered some cheesy bites in preparation for her affinity for tiny food. 

The hours slid by in music and laughter. Adora ate some pizza despite her dissipating appetite. She drank something that tasted fruity and thankfully not very alcohol-y. She checked her phone. She took a selfie with Perfuma. She drank some more. She checked her phone. Sea Hawk and Mermista soon reached their couples' karaoke stage of drunk, which had Bow scrambling for his camera like a madman— and from the sidelines Adora played along with the motions, wondering when she would be able to step in. 

By Sea Hawk's horrible suggestion (which got him a swift elbow to the ribs from Mermista, but she didn't object), an emptied wine bottle from Angella's stash became a game of spin the bottle. Glimmer and Bow moved the coffee table so the friends could all sit in a circle around the living room floor, all gazing at the bottle that would decide their fate. Entrapta, looking uncomfortable, gulped and got up. "IIIIIII, uh, think I'll sit this one out."

Adora's nerves had flared. She was almost tempted to do the same, but it was when she opened her mouth to say something that she realised the fluttering in her stomach wasn't necessarily the bad kind. 

With the gender ratio in here, odds were, she would be kissing a girl. Her eyes flitted around the circle. Glimmer with her fluffy hair and sunny smile. Mermista with her regal features and intense brown eyes Adora could never quite meet. Perfuma, who always moved with an airy grace, like she was ready to slip into dance in the next motion. Cynthia and Vivian, two women, two beautiful and confident women, unabashedly and unashamedly in love. 

It wasn't that she _wanted_ to, but she also didn't... _not_ want to. 

Excitement. That's what this was. Paired with a little drunken giddiness, a lowering of inhibitions, rebellion tingled in her veins. Maybe parties weren't so bad after all. And to think she was going to spend tonight writing a stupid essay she didn't care about. 

(One her GPA and thus her scholarship depended on, but she wasn't going to think about that for now.)

Vivian went first, and oddly enough, the bottle stopped on Cynthia.

"Oh," Vivian gave her a sideways smirk, _"gross."_

Cynthia giggled, her fingers already sliding into her fiancée's silvery curls. "Aw, babe, you didn't tell me you had telekinesis." 

Their kiss came together like two halves of a whole, like practiced routine. She wondered what that was like, to feel so comfortable, so secure; to find home in someone wherever she was. She might have known, at one point, but it was in circumstances neither of them could control, a person who could have been ripped away from her at any moment. 

Looking away, she reached for another drink. She checked her phone again. Still nothing. 

Mermista was next, and she got Perfuma. Theirs was slower, passionate, to the point that Sea Hawk looked like he was starting to regret suggesting this. It broke with Perfuma giggly and flustered, despite being the most sober person in the room, and Mermista returning to her stupefied boyfriend's side with a self-satisfied grin.

Sea Hawk insisted on having a turn then. He got Bow. 

"I think this bottle's pushing the gay agenda," Glimmer muttered to Adora, her smile strained as she watched Sea Hawk draw back from an utterly awestruck Bow. 

Glimmer took hers next. Adora watched her focused eyes, watched the elegant twirl of her wrist, watched the bottle intently, willing willing willing— 

Sure enough, the bottle chose her. 

This was her sign. This was her chance. She seized it before she could change her mind. Lips met and departed, short and sweet and over as soon as it began. The group moved on from the game soon thereafter, but the kiss lingered in Adora's mind for the rest of the night. Every time she caught Glimmer's eye her heart would do a little somersault. She felt like she was made of clouds, drifting in starlight. 

Catra never did respond. 

* * *

Catra and Adora had concluded that neither Kyle nor Rogelio were eligible bachelors. None of the older boys would want to play Weddings even if they did have the courage to ask them. To the two six year olds, the logical course of action was to marry each other. 

And why not? With school closed because of the storm, the power gone and the outdoors closed for the same reason, the children were left alone with their imaginations to devise their own entertainment. How were they supposed to know a wedding between two girls was wrong, an abomination, an affront to God and nature, when no one had told them yet? 

And anyway, it was only a silly game. It would be another twelve years before they could _really_ get married, if they still wanted to; another eight years before _any_ two girls could marry in their state, though of course they didn't know that yet. 

So there they were. The kitchen their aisle, Lonnie their _Officiator_ (she was particularly proud of herself for knowing such a big grown-up word), Kyle and Rogelio their bridesmaids. 

Beatrix Tessaro crashed the ceremony before Lonnie could read the vows, or what she could remember from a movie they'd watched, messily scrawled across a post-it. 

Adora could vaguely remember Beatrix having bouts of seeming really, _really_ sick around this time, though she still didn't know why. She remembered this instance particularly well. Sallow-skinned and bloodshot-eyed, she ignored the children for the most part as she shuffled to the sink. She leaned over the counter while the tap ran, groaning, murmuring something indiscernible into the tense quiet as she felt around for a glass. Adora could have found one for her, good girl that she was, but she suddenly couldn't move. 

"Chicken noodle soup," Kyle spoke up. 

Beatrix's shoulders tensed in a sharp grimace. Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating the dim kitchen before plunging them back in darkness. The children all flinched. 

"Chicken noodle soup," Kyle repeated more loudly, sounding less confident, "my mom makes it for me when I don't feel well." 

Kyle was the newest, and he still spoke of his mom in the present, like his stay here was temporary, she'd be back for him tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. No one told him otherwise; it would fizzle out eventually. This was the house where hope came to die. 

Beatrix turned then, blearily examining the setup. Bedsheet as a tablecloth. Scrunched-up napkin bouquets. Dish towels as veils. "What _are_ you _doing?"_

__

"Playing Weddings," Adora answered after no one else did, voice wavering.

__

"I _see."_ Beatrix's eyes narrowed as her gaze flicked between the two brides. "And who is the groom?" 

__

"We're, um…" Adora, now undoubtedly certain they were doing something wrong, looked pleadingly at Catra. 

__

"We're...both brides," said Catra, edging closer to Adora's side. 

__

Beatrix scoffed, shaking her head. Her hair, long and black, limp and stringy, slipped over her shoulders and obscured her in her hunched-over stance, and Adora was actually kind of glad for that. "You _understand,_ don't you," she spoke slowly, each word a branding iron, "that marriage is between a man and a woman." 

__

"But _why?"_ Catra probably didn't mean to sound as defiant as she did. "I don't want to marry a stupid, stinky _boy."_

__

"Because that's the way it _is."_ Beatrix waved a silencing hand. "And how it has _been_ and always will be. Do you ever wonder why you never see boy-couples or girl-couples in any of your movies or your little cartoon shows?" (A collective shaking of heads) "Because in the real world, boys who like boys and girls who like girls are despised and outcast. It doesn't matter _why._ The sooner you learn these things the better." 

__

Then she turned away, pulled down her mask and vomited into the sink.

__

__

* * *

__

__

The real world _was_ harsh, and Adora was thankful to Beatrix for preparing her for that.

__

When their foster-mother began to get better, and the black cloud over the house seemed to lift, she began telling the younger children stories again. These weren't fairytales about damsel princesses and dashing princes or knights in shining armour; Beatrix's protagonists were girls who forged their own paths. Adora would later learn some of her stories were adapted from Greek mythology: the beautiful plant goddess Persephone used the dark lord Hades to take power for herself; the witch Circe used her craft to protect her independence, alone in her exile and wanting it no other way. Others she might have just made up. 

__

She grew up with the typical Disney stuff too, and other shows and movies where the main girl's story wasn't complete until she was in the arms of a man. The aspect of love appealed to her; the man part did not. If it was between that and Beatrix's stories, Adora thought, she was pretty sure she preferred the latter. 

__

And it was fine. She was happy to sit it out when her school friends started finding boyfriends, stammering excuses about her strictly religious foster mother the couple times boys tried to ask _her_ out (Catra had to disguise her laughter with a coughing fit the one time she overheard). In middle school Kyle had been singled out as a horrible word Adora couldn't stand to repeat and just as Beatrix had said, was despised and outcast right until he dropped out. Catra would later come out as a lesbian in defiant solidarity, and bore the slurs that were thrown her way like badges of honour; Adora defended her friends too, but from a distance at which she only further retreated into her shell.

__

It _was_ fine, until she started college. 

__

Glimmer made no secret of the fact she was bisexual from the day Adora met her, but it hadn't always been that way. On one of those ethereal rooftop nights in Taiwan, that hazy summer that already felt a whole world away, she confided in Adora that she'd broken down in tears when she came out to her mom in high school, which was only after Angella had picked up on the fact she was hiding something and wore her down. She had enveloped Glimmer in a hug, telling her _of course_ she accepted her, _of course_ she loved her, and her only regret was making Glimmer feel she'd react any other way. She made Glimmer's favourite for dinner, despite normally being a horrible cook, and they talked and laughed well into the night; Glimmer remarked it was the closest she had felt to her mother in years. 

__

Then word somehow reached her aunt all the way here in Taiwan, and when Glimmer next visited, she was greeted with a cake iced in the colours of the bisexual flag. "It was _so_ embarrassing," Glimmer recalled, smiling fondly in the moonlight, "but so _sweet_ I couldn't even be mad. Plus it was delicious, so." 

__

Glimmer's aunt's name was Yuehua, though she told Bow and Adora to call her Casta. She was successful and stunning and radiated self-assurance in a way that intimidated Adora at first, but in that summer she somehow made her feel more part of a family than Beatrix ever had. 

__

Her and Glimmer ended up having a lot of these talks in Taiwan. Bow slept like the dead, and could have probably slept through the apocalypse, but swirling thoughts and blistering heat made it harder for Adora to drift off, and Glimmer seemed to have the same problem. It was cooler up there on the roof, and under the impartial moon, the far-off stars, over a rolling countryside that looked like something out of a storybook, it was easier to say things that couldn't be said during the day.

__

Glimmer told Adora about her dad for the first time, or at least what little she knew. She'd only been young when he disappeared, and her mom always closed off when she tried to ask her about him, and teared up if she pushed it too much. She only knew him from pictures and videos, ones she'd found online from when the media were swarming the case, the wedding photo in the living room her mom couldn't bear to take down like the others, but she wished more than anything she could know what he'd looked liked when he saw Glimmer for the first time after one of his international trips, what he'd sounded like when he was trying to make her laugh. The reason she kept coming back to Taiwan was because it was here that people would actually _talk_ about him, tell her about him, and she thought that maybe by putting all these little pieces together, retracing his steps across the island that had forged him, she might one day remember. Or at the very least, she wouldn't forget. 

__

It must be strange, Adora had thought, grieving someone you never really got the chance to know. She didn't grieve her own parents, she barely even thought about them. 

__

This could have been her window to tell Glimmer this, but she didn't. It didn't feel like the right time.

__

Just as telling Adora about her coming out could have been a window to come out herself, but she didn't, not to anyone, even now she was in the safest place she could be among her college friends. There was already Cynthia and Vivian, whose teary proposal she'd watched with tears brimming in her own eyes; Lance and George, Bow's dads, whose own families didn't accept them so they had simply cultivated their own, taking in children who would have likely been left to fester in the foster system otherwise and raising them in a home of solid, unconditional love. If anything, coming out probably would have brought her friends closer, made her feel more connected when she was being at least a _little_ more true to herself. The world was harsh, but anyone could find acceptance if they knew where to look. 

__

Adora could have, but she didn't, because she was a coward. 

__

That was one of _many_ insults Catra had thrown at her in their past arguments, and as she lay in Glimmer's room now, the buzz of alcohol fading, Bow fast asleep on one side of her and Glimmer pretending to sleep on the other— she realised that Catra was right. 

__

It wasn't that she was scared, because everyone got scared, even Glimmer and Bow got scared, even _Catra_ got scared; it was that she let this fear hold her back.

__

_Well,_ she resolved, _not anymore._

__

She already knew this would be easier said than done, but she started by messaging Catra back: _hey, can we talk?_

__

This time, Catra's reply came almost immediately: _we are talking._

__

Adora rolled her eyes and sent the coinciding emoji, followed by: _you know what i mean_

__

While she waited for a reply, she whispered Glimmer's name. Glimmer made a _mmmm-_ kind of noise that confirmed she was at least a _little_ awake, then murmured, "what's up?"

__

"I think I'm a lesbian," Adora whispered. 

__

Glimmer was quiet, then she let out a little snort. "I'm _that_ good, huh?" 

__

Adora's cheeks burned. _"Glimmer!"_

__

"Shh, shh, I'm joking." Glimmer reached across the darkness, taking her hand; although Adora could barely see her, she could hear her smile. "Well done, I'm proud of you." 

__

__

* * *

__

__

Vee Parker had just been knocked dead by Miss Rosa's stolen prison van when Catra's phone buzzed. 

__

"So, what'd you do, anyway?" Lonnie asked her before she could check it. 

__

Catra looked over sceptically, feeling like they were in one of the prisoners' conversations. "What do you mean?" 

__

"Why'd Tessaro kick you out?" 

__

Catra's teeth clenched. Why did it always have to be something _she'd_ done? "Literally _nothing_. She wanted me out because she had _company."_

__

_"Company?"_ Lonnie raised her eyebrows. 

__

"Yeah." Catra shrugged. "You tell me."

__

"Hey!" Kyle, who'd been exiled to the floor when the couch turned out to be too small for four of them (Rogelio ended up joining him in solidarity, leaving Catra and Lonnie to lounge top-tail), clicked his fingers. " _That's_ who Vee reminds me of!"

__

_"Kyle,"_ Lonnie said, almost sounding disappointed, "Tessaro is white." 

__

"I thought she was like…" Kyle squinted. "Italian." 

__

"Okay, so spicy white," said Lonnie, "slightly-better-at-cooking white." 

__

Rogelio grunted and Catra scoffed, because they _all_ knew better than anyone that Tessaro couldn't cook for shit. She scoffed again when she got around to reading Adora's message, and responded snarkily, expecting that to be the end of it. When Adora's reply came, she sat up.

__

Huh. Adora Brand taking initiative. 

__

This could be interesting. 

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _so you mean like_

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _in person_

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _?_

__

"Who you texting?" Lonnie asked. Catra ignored her. 

__

**Adora Brand:** _preferably, yeah._

__

**Adora Brand:** _you got work tomorrow?_

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _nope_

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _you got classes_

__

**Adora Brand:** _only til the afternoon_

__

**Adora Brand:** _4 good for you?_

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _yup_

__

**Adora Brand:** _whereabouts?_

__

**Cyra Fahad:** _i do know this quaint lil restaurant, you might've heard of it_ _:P_

__

**Adora Brand:** _not mcdonald's, catra._

__

Catra huffed at her own unappreciated hilarity, shoving at Lonnie's shoulder as she tried to snoop at her screen. 

__

_fine._ , she typed, _meet me at_ _the pier. you know where._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A free virtual cheeseburger for whoever picks up on the meta
> 
>  **Cynthia Spinner** and **Vivian Nkansah** are Spinnerella and Netossa respectively


	6. Old McFriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT of bad language in this chapter if anyone's bothered by that, which should hint at how this meeting goes 
> 
> And no McDonald's again, oops

Adora was still just how Catra remembered her.

Same blonde ponytail, loose wisps billowing in the breeze. Same red varsity jacket. Same perpetual aura of uncertainty, all the more apparent now as she glanced at her phone, looked around, chewed her bottom lip. For a moment Catra was seventeen again, ready to surprise her from behind, throw her arms around her waist, laugh a greeting into her shoulder— but then she remembered. She remembered everything. 

Catra was fashionably late, if a giant flannel over mom jeans and a tank top fell under that definition. She supposed she could have messaged Adora some excuse, but seeing her now, a bundle of nerves and doubt, a grim part of her was glad she didn't. Better to leave her hanging. Let her feel insecure. 

To Adora's credit, the fact she'd known where to wait meant that day, that moment, must still be lingering somewhere in her mind. Maybe it had even meant something to her. Or maybe, more likely, she'd just made an educated guess. The viewing point _was_ kind of an obvious place, come to think of it. 

Frankly, though, Catra was almost impressed she'd turned up at all. To risk cramping her style to see someone as lowly as her ex-best friend? Oh, Catra Fahad had truly been _blessed_ today. 

Finally, Adora spotted her. 

She raised a hand, giving an awkward wave. 

Catra answered with a curt, acknowledging nod. 

Above, a circling seagull screeched, as if urging them to get on with it already.

They met in the middle, a world apart. They both had their hands in their pockets. A hug was out of the question, a handshake was too weirdly formal, so what were they supposed to do? 

"Hi."

"Hey."

"I, um." Adora looked down, clearing her throat, scuffing her sneakers on the wood. They looked new. "I was starting to think you'd bailed." 

"Yeah, no. Bus was late." Catra's shoulders were hunched. She was strangely cold, even though it was considerably warmer compared to the last time they were here.

"So, should we…" Adora trailed off, motioning vaguely across the pier. 

"Sure." She didn't know what she was agreeing to. She was pretty sure Adora didn't either.

As they set off without direction, Catra kept stealing glances her way, and one thing was abundantly clear: Adora was a _wreck_. Back tense, lip chewed to ribbons; tired, glassy eyes fixated straight ahead, unable to even look at her. There was really no use trying to hide it from Catra of all people, she could always see through her bullshit.

As she felt Adora's nerves steadily mounting, a smirk almost found its way to her lips. _Good._

"So," Adora managed after a while, "how are things?" 

"Good." Catra answered flatly. If all Adora had for her was hollow small-talk, she had no interest in trying to carry this conversation. But oddly, the silence was starting to get to her too, so she asked, "what about you?" 

"Good," Adora repeated. "Classes are okay. I'm quarterback for the women's football team like in high school, 'cause part of my scholarship, um… I— I went to Taiwan over the summer. Glimmer— you know, pink hair, forgot her wallet— had to help me with the passport and visa stuff since I'd never left the country before. She tried to teach me some Mandarin too, but it's really..." She tapered off, swallowing, obviously noting Catra's lack of interest. "I, um, also came out as gay." 

Catra didn't know if Adora told her that expecting her to be impressed, or proud, or something. She just scoffed. "You _just_ figured that out?"

Adora said nothing. 

They traipsed through the amusements in their miserable silence, Catra stalking ahead with her arms folded, fingers digging deeper and deeper into her arms, Adora picking up her pace to keep up. It was busy today, the simmering tension permeated with the thrumming techno and delighted screams of carefree youth. She could still remember the rush of that roller-coaster, the swell of adrenaline just before the drop, how she'd instinctively grasped Adora's hand like a lifeline. The air tasted like sea salt and sugary donuts, those same donuts they'd made the questionable decision of sharing beforehand, when they'd come here as friends to have a good time, not as...this...to...god, what _was_ this? _Why_ did she want Adora to meet her here again? 

"A new girl joined the crew just after you left," she said after a while, "Scorpia Krasnova. White hair. I don't know if you saw her." 

"Is she tall? Really bulky? I think I might have seen her hovering behind you in the window," said Adora with a wry half-smile, "she's pretty." 

"Yeah," Catra said, "she is." 

Scorpia was far from the only new starter who'd come and gone since Adora left; she didn't know why she felt the need to mention her in particular. Was she trying to make Adora jealous, knowing Scorpia was pretty much her type? Or was it just because literally _nothing_ else had happened since Adora left? Nothing she felt like telling her about, at least. 

"Are you two friends?" Adora asked. She felt like there was another implication there, a prefix, but maybe that was just her. 

"Oh yeah, we're _really_ close." Kind of a half-lie. Scorpia definitely liked _her_ , she liked her a lot, actually, but Catra didn't really know what closeness was anymore. Wasn't sure if she ever had. 

"I'd love to meet her." Adora gave her a full smile then, strained as anything, but by god was she trying. 

"Oh, I _bet_ you would." She actually _meant_ for that to sound lighthearted, a playful poke at Adora's affinity for buff girls, but it came out like more of an accusation. With the bitterness lingering on her tongue, she asked, "When am I gonna meet _your_ new friends?" 

"You kind of already have." Maybe realising that sounded like a no, Adora quickly added, "but I'm sure they'd love to meet you." 

It still kind of sounded like a no. 

"So how are the others?" Adora shifted the subject. "Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio…"

Catra was scuffing her sneakers now. These old, dirty sneakers. "They're good. They've got their own place now." 

Adora nodded. Hesitated. "So are you still living with…" 

"Yup." 

"And is she…" 

"Yeah, she's good." A full-on lie. Tessaro was _never_ 'good', in fact, she'd seemed _particularly_ not-good lately, but what the hell did Adora care? 

After a beat, she felt the need to add, "she's still _really_ pissed at you, though." 

She didn't know if _that_ was true, but it drew the reaction Catra wanted: Adora's breath hitched like she'd been punched in the stomach. "Oh."

They stopped before the entrance. Seems both their subconsciouses had wanted them off that pier, but now what? 

"Food?" Adora's voice was strained. 

"Sure." Catra's was flat.

They found a Starbucks, incidentally one of the cheaper places in Silaneas. Adora ordered her usual caramel frappe and triple chocolate muffin. Catra got one of the special frappes, something super overpriced with a few equally overpriced extras, because reduced hours be damned, she _deserved_ this. Adora was quick enough to claim a table with two adjacent couches, which in different times might have been cause for whooping and high-fives, but now Catra just took her seat across from her in silence. Asides from agreeing on Starbucks, neither of them had said a word since the pier. 

"Is that the new one?" Adora asked, motioning to Catra's drink. 

"Yup," said Catra. 

"How is it?" 

"Haven't tried it."

She took a sip now. It was gross.

Starbucks seemed to have cheaped out on the aircon (which reminded Catra of another place she knew), so Adora shrugged off her jacket. Catra had to tear her eyes away from her arms, remembering how she herself hadn't exercised in months. 

She was boiling too, but she opted to keep her flannel on. 

"So…" Adora shifted uncomfortably. Her arm covered her stomach, which she usually did when the anxious butterflies got overwhelming. Before, she would have quietly confided in Catra that she needed to leave the situation; now, Catra _was_ the situation. "Are we actually going to...you know, _talk?"_

"We are talking." It was just as funny the second time, though neither of them laughed. 

_"Catra."_

Her tone reminded her of Tessaro then, in a way that made her blood boil. 

"Well, what's there to talk about?" Catra struggled to keep her own tone level. "You're doing great, I'm doing same as always. Happy _fucking_ days, right?" 

"Are you _kidding_ me right now?!" One of them was going to snap first, Catra was just glad it was Adora. She looked to the concerned patrons at the next table apologetically and lowered her voice to a hiss. "Look, I _get_ you're still mad, so can we just cut the passive-aggressive bullshit and like, _try_ to resolve this?" 

"If you don't know _why_ I'm mad then there's nothing worth resolving." Catra crossed one leg over the other, leaning back on her couch, feigning a casualness she definitely wasn't feeling. 

"No, Catra, I _don't_ know why you're mad." Adora's voice would be infuriatingly calm, if Catra didn't know her any better. "I was always going to go to college, you knew this, so what's the _actual_ problem?"

"I mean, it would've been really great if you'd tried to ask me any of this while you were still there, it's not like you had the whole _summer_ to pause your pity party for two fucking seconds. Do you have any idea what Tessaro was _like_ after you left, Adora?" She despised how her voice wavered on that last part. "And that I was just left to deal with her bullshit _myself?_ Do you even _care?"_

"If she's so bad, why are you still there?" A flicker of satisfaction flashed across Adora's eye as Catra's teeth gritted. "You still could've left _with_ me, you know. We still could've got a place together like we planned. _I_ still wanted to, Catra! Me going to college didn't change _any_ of that." 

"Oh, right!" Catra threw her arms out. "So I could just sit back and _watch_ you make all these amazing new friends and go on your little Asia adventures or what the fuck ever? Front row seats to watch you go onto bigger and better places while I'm still flipping burgers? _Forget_ _it_ , Adora."

"Oh my _god_ , Catra." Adora drew back, her eyes widening. "Are you _jealous?_ Is _that_ was this is?" 

At first, Catra was speechless. Then she began to laugh, low and mirthless. "Oh, _unbelievable._ Un- _fucking_ -believable! You haven't changed a _bit_ , have you?" Adora opened her mouth like she was about to protest, but Catra didn't give her the chance. "You know, I thought leaving Tessaro's little bubble might have at _least_ knocked your ego down a couple notches but jesus-fucking- _christ,_ Adora. Tell me, actually, what _is_ it like not being the best anymore? How _do_ you stay on your high-horse without her there to hold you up?" 

Adora's mouth hung open. Then she looked away, shaking her head. "I'm so stupid," she muttered. "I am so _fucking_ stupid."

"Yeah," Catra scoffed, "you got that right." 

She began to get up, hastily pulling her jacket back on. "God, to think that when you agreed with this, I _actually_ thought you might—" 

"Gonna _what,_ Adora?" 

"I don't know, _apologise?"_

_"Apologise?!"_ Catra spluttered. "Wow, you really _are_ stupid."

By this point, pretty much the whole restaurant was staring at them. She could see a couple of baristas nervously murmuring to each other, probably weighing up intervening. Even Adora was probably beyond caring by this point.

"You know what? Forget it." Adora made a sweeping gesticulation, almost knocking over both their drinks. "I'm not going to entertain this. Why don't you come back to me when you can tell me what you're _actually_ mad about, Catra." 

"I'll tell _Beatrix_ you said hi!" Catra called merrily after her as she left, a lame, low blow, but there was no way in hell was she letting Adora have the last word. 

God, the idiot hadn't even touched her drink. Looked like it was Catra's now.

Leaning back, she waited for that sweet satisfaction to wash over her, to cleanse her. She'd said her piece. Hell, she'd _won._

Hadn't she? 

What _had_ she won? 

Suffice to say, that satisfaction never came. 


	7. Girls Just Wanna Have McFun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slower update, I had a stressful McWeek (my current non-food service job also sucks) and I ended up having to rewrite a few chunks. I don't know if I still hate it or I'm just sick of looking at it but it is SUPER long 
> 
> **Warnings:** Unspecified illness; brief discussions of sex; covert homophobia; implied homophobic bullying

Adora had been too young at the time to have any memory of meeting Beatrix, but she did remember meeting Catra. 

At the time, Catra was a lump under a blanket named Cyra. Beatrix had barely finished introducing her to the other children before she'd wrenched her hand free from her foster mother's and bolted upstairs. Now Adora regarded the vaguely girl-shaped lump with uncertainty, because she had _wanted_ to build a fort, had been _planning_ to build a fort ever since _lunch time,_ but the lump had occupied _her_ bed.

She picked up a stick, a stick she'd found at the park and decided to keep because she thought it was neat, and gave the lump a light prod. 

"Go away," the lump sniffled. 

Adora's brow furrowed. She took a tentative step forward, and another, and gently lifted the end of the blanket, catching a glimpse of a tear-streaked face, before it was swiftly yanked back down again. 

"Go _away!"_ the lump repeated, voice breaking with a sob.

Adora was a very _sweet_ little girl. She had heard Beatrix saying that, and she took it as a compliment because she was too young to pick up on condescension. Perhaps that sweetness was why concern overcame any annoyance she might have had. As much as she'd _wanted_ to build her fort on her _own_ bed, she didn't like it when people cried _anywhere._ It happened a lot in this house. 

She sat next to the lump, which shrunk as the girl beneath curled up into a smaller ball. In Adora's young experience, asking someone why they were crying, even acknowledging that they were crying, never seemed to yield good results around here. Instead she said, "my name is Adora." 

The lump was silent, so Adora gently prompted, "your name is Cyra, right?" 

Still no answer, so she poked it with her finger. "How old are you?"

Finally, the lump answered, "I'm five."

"Oh!" Adora beamed. _That_ was the foundation for friendship, right there. "I'm five too!"

The lump must have agreed with this flawless logic, because soon the blanket came off and Catra emerged, a head of curly hair and a pair of heterochromatic eyes, wide and upturned like a cat's, regarding Adora warily. 

Adora would always be stricken by those eyes, even after seeing them every day of every year (until she didn't). One blue, one golden-brown; sky and sun. There was a time she could have happily let herself lost in those heavens, if she had only had the courage to be so adventurous (and she never did). 

But at this point, she was four, and things were simpler when you were four, so she helpfully pointed out, "your eyes are different colours." 

Catra nodded wordlessly. 

"I'm gonna build a fort," Adora said, "do you wanna build a fort with me?" 

Catra shook her head. "No. I don't wanna. I don't wanna be here." 

Adora tilted hers. "How come?" 

"I wanna go home." Catra drew her knees to her chest, her eyes brimming. "I want my mom." 

"You might see her soon," Adora said uncertainly, knowing even at this tender age how unlikely that was, "and Beatrix is nice."

"That lady?" Catra shook her head more vigorously, curls bouncing with the movement. "No, I don't like her. I-I think..." She leaned in then, dropping her voice to a whisper like she was about to divulge a big giant _super_ secret. Intrigued, Adora leaned in to listen. "I think she's a _witch!"_

 _"Cyra!"_ Adora drew back, giggling at this absurd accusation. "Beatrix can't be a witch, silly, she works in McDonald's!" For some reason, that correlation made perfect sense at the time. 

"Don't care." Catra huffed, but she looked like she was trying not to smile. "I don't like her. I want my mom." Her lip began to tremble again. Adora had to act fast.

"Well." She scooted a little closer. "You have me." 

Typically, there was no permanence in this place. For all she knew, Catra's mom was going to come for her tomorrow and she would never see her again, just like the other children who came and went to who knew where. But when Catra looked back at her, Adora smiled with earnesty and took her hand, their fates intertwining with their stubby little fingers, and Catra's face seemed to soften, like she knew, there and then, that everything was going to be okay. 

It wasn't a reassurance— it was a promise. 

* * *

If Catra's final _I hate you_ before Adora left for college had been the final nail in the coffin, that meeting must have been the last shovelful of dirt on the grave. 

It was all Adora could do not to crumble to the ground and give up on life completely when she saw her bus cruise past before she reached the stop. She waited twenty minutes for the next one with tears in her eyes and a wrench in her chest, and it was only once she had collapsed into an empty seat, right at the back, that she let a single, stray tear fall.

* * *

"You saw _Adora,_ didn't you?" There was no telling how long Tessaro had been there, hovering in Catra's doorway like a sleep paralysis demon. "I did knock." 

In silence and through narrowed eyes, Catra watched as Tessaro slithered in uninvited. Adora's bed was long gone now, replaced with a desk and chair that was currently acting as Catra's clean laundry storage. Tessaro picked up the pile of unfolded clothes on the chair and dropped it on top of the other pile on the desk, sitting herself down like she owned the place. Which, Catra supposed, she kind of did. 

She may have shed a tear or two into her pillow when she got home, allergy season and all. She could only hope it didn't show on her face now, or Tessaro might have got the wrong impression. 

Finally, she asked her, realising all too late how hoarse her voice was, "where did you get that idea?" 

"I could hear you listening to Mitski from my garden." Catra took the hint to turn the music down. "And I saw on the security cameras that she was in the drive-thru on Monday. I knew it would only be a matter of time."

Catra sat up properly, folding her arms, closed and defensive. "What do _you_ care, anyway?" 

Tessaro didn't answer at first, and it took Catra a moment to realise that it was because she was trying to catch her breath; a moment more before she realised how _grim_ she looked. She clutched the fabric over her chest, breaths rasping and shallow; her forehead drenched in sweat that clung to her mask and hair. It was as if the trip from the backyard to Catra's bedroom had done a number on her, unless she'd been like this already.

Maybe she should be laying down. Maybe she should have seen a doctor, like, _yesterday._ But there was no use saying any of that. Even asking if she was okay would be a futile risk. 

"And how is she?" Tessaro finally asked. Catra noticed she was clutching the armrest of the chair, hand quivering, knuckles white. Was she in pain?

"Oh, she's _great,"_ she answered, doing a far worse job at hiding the bitterness in her voice than the concern in her face. 

"And what about _you?"_

Now Catra just raised a brow. No _way_ did Tessaro just ask how she was.

Then she said, "are you just going to sulk in your room with your depressing music like a morose teenager?", which seemed more like it. 

_"Again,"_ said Catra, "what do you care?" 

"Because it's _pathetic,_ Catra." Sadly, however sick Tessaro was didn't impede on her ability to wield words like weapons, striking right where it hurt. There was just something _about_ the word pathetic, and the way _Tessaro_ said it— "You're going to let yourself unravel over a girl who _left_ you, who would barely spare you a second thought?" She motioned to Catra, and then across the room: the unfolded laundry, the overflowing trash can, the old McDonald's bag and the growing pile of dirty dishes next to her bed she kept meaning to bring downstairs. "Get a _grip_ on yourself. I will _not_ tolerate this weakness under _my_ roof, do you hear me?" 

You're _lecturing_ me _about weakness? You can hardly climb a flight of stairs, you decrepit old hag._

"I think the whole street can hear you, Tessaro," Catra muttered, and she quickly shut up with the look Tessaro shot her way.

Tessaro stood— obviously too briskly, and would have fallen forward had Catra not leapt off her bed and caught her arm in time. She supported the much taller woman's weight with alarming ease. She knew Tessaro had always been very thin, maybe that was how she was so good at sneaking around, but had she always been _this_ skinny? What the _hell_ had she been hiding?

"Should I...call somebody?" she asked no one in particular, panic choking out her commonsense. She couldn't even tell if Tessaro was fully conscious right now, but she did know she hated hospitals, hated doctors and everything they stood for, and that she'd _kill_ her if she got anyone else involved, even if she had to come back from the dead herself to do so (not that she was _going_ to die, _Tessaro_ couldn't _die,_ why had that possibility even entered her mind?). What was she supposed to _do?_

But then Tessaro grabbed her wrist, and Catra withdrew from her like she'd been burned, another older, repressed kind of panic crawling up her throat. _"Don't,"_ she said, "get _ahead_ of yourself, Catra."

Don't get ahead of herself. Don't overstep boundaries that would never apply in the reverse. Don't _dare_ show concern that would _never,_ in a million _years—_

She pulled her wrist from Tessaro's markedly frail grasp, her features set in cold defiance. "Get out." 

Tessaro was immediately calm, leaving Catra's anger to hang in the air. She spoke with a strained pleasantness that made her skin crawl, "I was just leaving." 

Catra slammed the door as soon as she was out and flopped back on her bed. Great, so now Tessaro knew she'd seen Adora.

Reiterated that she was pathetic, that she was _weak._

And the worst part was, she was probably right. Why else would she feel like her insides were being shredded when she'd said what she wanted to say, what Adora _deserved to_ hear? 

That was the thing about Tessaro: as callous as she was, as much as Catra hoped the next time she fainted would be down the stairs, she was often right. 

She _was_ unravelling. And she had been unravelling long before she'd seen Adora in that drive-thru. It showed in her disaster zone of a room. It showed in her weakened figure, her birdnest hair, the dark rings framing sullen, lifeless eyes. Her life had fallen into a monotonous routine of work and sleep, and there was so much to carry, so much gnawing at her, that she was just...exhausted. Not _depressed,_ she wasn't about to apply some stupid label to herself like one of her school counsellors would have wanted, but if a truck was hurtling in her direction, she'd have little reason to move out of the way— asides from not giving Tessaro or Adora the fucking pleasure.

On that vein of spite, maybe it _was_ time to get her shit together.

And she would start by folding her damn laundry. 

* * *

When Adora's roommate returned that evening to find Adora halfway through a second Ben & Jerry's carton, it was immediately clear she wasn't going to mind her own business. _"Oof._ What happened to you?" 

"Bad day," Adora answered with a shrug, futilely hoping that would be the end of it.

"Damn." Her roommate shrugged her jacket off, throwing it over her chair; in line with her more chaotic personality, her side of the room was notably messier than Adora's. Reminded her a little of someone else she knew.

It hadn't really bothered her before, but now she had to bite back a demand, a plea, to pick up after her damn self. 

"Well," her roommate said, "there's a party at the frat house tomorrow night. Someone's birthday or something, I don't know. You should come." 

Adora couldn't think of anything she wanted to do less. 

"There'll be a lot of hot guys there," her roommate added with a sly smile. 

Never mind, _there_ was something she wanted to do less. 

"Yeah, I'm really…" she sighed, trying to figure out how to word this in the nicest way possible. "Not interested. Like, at all." Well, she tried.

"Aw, come on," her unphased roommate coaxed, "I know your first time is like, intimidating? And stuff, but it really isn't a big deal— and _trust_ me, you're gonna find riding a hot frat boy is _amazing_ stress relief." 

Ever since hearing the Tennessee backstory, Adora's roommate seemed to have concluded that all of Adora's introversion and anxieties could be boiled down to sexual repression at the hands of a religious upbringing. Getting Adora laid, so she thought, would make _her_ the hero who had finally opened up the world to this goody-goody little country girl. Sometimes Adora wondered if she should have added in a rootin'-tootin' secret boyfriend back home, who was awaiting the day they could once again ride their horses side-by-side across those golden fields, but mostly she just managed to smile along and brush it off. Her roommate was the epitome of extrovert, anyway, so it wasn't as if she saw her enough for it to _really_ get to her. 

But today she just...couldn't. She was tired and she was hurt and she was _pissed off_ and she really, _really_ couldn't.

"I'm a lesbian," she snapped.

After a lifetime in the closet, her roommate was now the second (or third?) person Adora had come out to in two days, and it was _nothing_ like when she'd told Glimmer. No elation, no sense of relief. The words tasted bitter on her tongue and hung heavy in the silence, as she watched her roommate's ever-present smile finally falter, curling into something tight-lipped and entirely strained.

 _This_ was the reaction Adora had always subconsciously feared the most: not the flaunted, bare-faced bigotry of some religious zealot, but someone she had _trusted_ as open-minded and accepting enough to come out to on her own terms, only to witness them realise they weren't quite as liberal as they thought they were. When a gay person was fine in _theory_ , as a far off concept, but not when it was someone they _knew;_ not when it was _her._

(Catra's jeering scoff, like a twisting knife; _you just figured that out?)_

Yet, as one of her worst nightmares played out right before her eyes, she found she didn't care. She was tired and she was hurt and she was pissed off and she didn't _care._

 _"Oh,"_ her roommate said, trying to avoid any shift in her tone, "cool, um, _wow,_ I never would have guessed— n-not that there's anything... _wrong,_ obviously…" She cleared her throat, looking down at her bag. It had seemed like she _had been_ about to settle for the night, but now she looked ready to leave again. "I...might go grab dinner. You want anything from Panera?"

Adora pressed her lips together, her heart too heavy to even feign casualness. "I'm good. Thank you."

"Cool." 

With that, she was out, and Adora was alone.

Her phone buzzed, and she swiped the notification away without looking at it. She hadn't told her friends where she had been going after class today, and she wasn't planning to tell them how it went either. As much as she loved Bow and Glimmer, as much as she was sure they would _try,_ she knew they wouldn't understand: they hadn't even known who Catra _was_ until a few days ago. It was a lot of baggage to suddenly take on and, to be honest, she would rather carry the rest herself than burden them with it, especially when it would mean constantly having to explain herself, justify herself, to people who could never understand the way she grew up. 

The truth came to her then, so ironic she could almost laugh, so depressing she could cry if her chest didn't feel so raw and hollow, that the only person who'd ever really understood her, the only person she could have _been_ herself around, was—had been— well, Catra.

* * *

Even though she was spending her Friday night on the McGrind (as if she would be doing much else otherwise), Catra found herself in unusually high spirits.

In fairness, a night shift under Grizzlor was basically a party: when 2AM came and the closing manager left, the most fun one could ever have on a McDonald's shift would begin. Well, that was if he decided to show up tonight; the alternative of Tessaro staying on after her closing shift sounded like a living hell for employees and customers alike, but oddly enough even that likelihood couldn't bring Catra down. She'd worked out earlier, she'd actually cooked— _cooked!_ — herself a healthy dinner, washed her hair with a nice conditioner, and everything was coming up Catra. 

The initial evening rush had passed by 11PM, and with Tessaro occupied with the closing manager rounds of taking temps and counting stock, Catra was cheerfully humming some embarrassing oldies song as she attempted to wipe the floor with one of those terrible string mops that caught on everything in its vicinity. Hopefully she'd get to hear the song for real later, when Grizzlor violated corporate licensing by switching out the standard McDonald's playlist for what she was pretty sure was just the All Out 80s playlist on Spotify (not that Catra ever listened to it herself, _obviously)._ For now, she could listen to it from Scorpia on front register, as she tapped her foot and sang along under her breath. Yesterday still flickered in the back of her mind, like embers awaiting a spark, but as long as nothing happened, as long as she kept herself occupied—

She realised she had stopped humming. 

Scorpia was still singing.

"Hey, Scorpia?"

"Oh, sorry." Scorpia immediately clammed up. "I know you don't like it when I sing."

"What?" Catra blinked, then shook her head. "No! I'm just trying to make conversation, yeesh." 

"Oh!" Scorpia lit up. "Yes, conversation! Sure! What do you wanna, uh, converse about?" 

She suppressed an eye-roll at Scorpia's over-enthusiasm. "Well, you're _never_ gonna guess who I saw yesterday."

"Hm, let's see, uh…" Scorpia stroked her chin, then clicked her fingers. "Oooo! Was it Octavia? No, no, it was Prime, wasn't it?"

"Octavia's literally _here_ , you— I didn't mean _actually_ try to— _ugh."_ Catra exhaled, pushing down her temper. "Okay. It was Adora." 

Scorpia balked. _"What?_ Really?!"

"Uh-huh!" 

"Huh. Damn." Scorpia shook her head. "That's crazy. You hadn't seen her in, like, what, a year?— and now you basically bump into each other twice in less than a _week?"_

Catra slowly exhaled with the undying patience of a saint. This girl was _so_ lucky she was beautiful, because she definitely wasn't blowing anyone away with her intellect. "No, like, I _went_ to see her." 

_"Ohhhh."_ It looked like Scorpia's singular brain cell had finally clicked into place. "Wow, uh, how'd that go?" 

Before Catra could answer, Grizzlor made his grand entrance. Darting through the automatic doors, over an hour late, he quickly held up his phone for Catra and Scorpia to see, showing 15 missed calls from Tessaro. _I forgot she was here!_ , he mouthed. 

_Run!_ Catra mouthed back. 

Grizzlor gave one brisk nod and made a fruitless attempt to bolt for the back, obviously anticipating a full three hours of Tessaro-dodging, but of course—

_"Gerald."_

Catra and Scorpia were almost more petrified than Grizzlor as Tessaro appeared— like, literally _appeared_ — behind them, while Grizzlor himself froze like a deer in the headlights. Regathering himself, he spun around, grinning, and looked at the watch he wasn't wearing, his jaw dropping in feigned surprise. "Oh man, that time already? I am _so_ sorry, Bee, traffic was..." He trailed off, deflated under her penetrative gaze. "Okay, I don't know why I'm even trying to lie to you. I was asleep."

Catra turned to watch Tessaro as she pointed, wordlessly, in the direction of the back area. Grizzlor slunk there with his metaphorical tail between his legs. 

"Wow." Catra muttered to Scorpia, once she was as sure as she could be that Tessaro had left as well. "I think I've been knocked from the top of Tessaro's Most Hated People podium." A weird part of her was almost a little saddened by that. Hatred didn't compare to love, but it was better than apathy. She really couldn't even have one thing, could she?

"So what happened with Adora?" Scorpia asked. 

Oh, good, back to this. 

"Ugh, don't get me started," said Catra, who in fact wanted nothing more than to get started. "Just the same old, you know? She was expecting _me_ to apologise!" 

Scorpia gasped. "The _nerve!"_

 _"Right?"_ Catra was aglow. _This_ was what she liked about Scorpia: guaranteed, unconditional validation. The girl had never even met Adora and she hated her about as much as Catra did. "And get _this—"_

"Hey, Kitty-Cat," Octavia's voice interrupted from behind, "Grizzlor wants you to get a float."

A long-suffering groan was Catra's response. "Let me guess, for window one?" 

"For front, actually." 

"Oho, he's feeling _bold_ tonight, isn't he."

Tessaro was probably sorting floats, which meant it was time to face the music, and not the campy 80s kind. If her mood could survive another encounter with Tessaro, it would survive anything. She clung to that with optimism.

It looked like Tessaro was making a belated attempt at the rota when Catra went into the manager's office. Some sleep and probably a shower later, she at least no longer looked like she was inches from death, more like her usual few feet or so, unless that vein in her forehead decided to pop. Obviously _someone_ had to do the rota while Cobalt was on leave, Catra just couldn't understand why the task had been left to the most IT illiterate and IT-phobic person on the payroll. 

"Grizzlor wants me to get a float," she announced, plonking herself on the other chair. 

Tessaro was clicking incessantly, glowering at the monitor with such intensity Catra half-expected it to go up in flames. "And he couldn't _wait_ a half hour?" 

Yeah, she knew that tone. Tessaro's frustration was extending its tendrils, seeking to drag down everyone around her. She needed an outlet, and Catra wasn't about to give her one. 

She wasn't exactly in any rush to go on front anyway, so Tessaro could take the next seven hours for all she cared. She sat back in her chair, elbow on the armrest, chin in her palm, and watched the old lady try to navigate the system with mild amusement, but in her own Gen Z-er fashion she quickly began to feel restless. For probably the millionth time since starting here she cursed her uniform pants for not having pockets, or she would at least have her phone to entertain her. 

After a while, her eyes were drawn to the unwrapped McDouble next to the keyboard, presumably Tessaro's forgotten break food. Yesterday flashed across her mind with the grim reminder that Tessaro was still sick, horribly and ambiguously sick, and when she thought about it— and she _kept_ thinking about it— she still couldn't believe it had taken her this long to notice. Then she remembered that it was Tessaro so she shouldn't care. She _didn't_ care.

In any case, if she wasn't hungry, Catra sure was. As she was working up the courage to ask, Tessaro pushed it over wordlessly. So much for that healthy cooked dinner earlier. 

Then Tessaro slapped the table, almost making her drop it. "What happened? Where did it go?"

Catra looked at the screen, kind of half-hoping she'd somehow wiped her work just because it would be really funny. "It's still there, Tessaro, you just minimised the window." 

Tessaro's eyes flashed to her, almost accusingly. "I did _what?"_

She tried to suppress a sigh, reaching for the mouse. "Look, just let me—" 

Tessaro slid the mouse from her reach. "If _you_ mess this up, Catra, I swear to—" 

Catra felt like she could tear her hair out. Her own or Tessaro's, she wasn't sure. "What have you done for me _to_ mess up?!" 

The phone rang then, cutting them both off. Tessaro froze, looking at it like it had just exploded with spiders. "Catra." She sounded the two syllables slowly, severely. "Answer the phone." 

Answering the store phone was definitely beyond Catra's ranking as a crew member, but Tessaro or not, _no one_ talked back to the manager who was doing the rota. A disagreement with Cobalt was the whole reason she had been put on a Monday morning open and a Friday night shift in the same week. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone. "H—" 

She didn't even get the first syllable out before she was hit with a verbal barrage, so deafeningly scathing she had to hold the phone away from her ear. It was hard to make out what this incensed customer was even saying. Something about a missing item? A long, black hair in their Big Mac? Huh, wonder who _that_ could have been. Not the manager who seemed to have some moral objection to tying her long, black hair up unless Hordak was around, surely. 

"Uh." She held the phone out to Tessaro, deciding she'd rather both draw her ire and be put on five consecutive opens than deal with this. "I think it's for you."

She was looking forward to at least hearing Tessaro argue with the customer, it was always fun seeing someone _else_ on the receiving end of her wrath, but she just snatched the phone, heard them out for all of two seconds, then slammed it down. Her silence was _seething,_ the kind of mad-at-everything that just shut everything down and lifted her soul from her body. Catra knew because she'd been there.

She only wondered why Tessaro was still...well, _here._

It was one of the strange things about Tessaro. She did _not_ like her job, to put it mildly; there were few worse candidates for customer service, and it wasn't as if she _couldn't_ do anything else. Just from what very, very little Catra had picked up about her over the years— that she'd been to more countries than Catra could count on both hands, spoke more languages than Catra knew the names of— there had to be some better job out there that would take her, and even with that aside, weren't those foster carer checks enough? She wasn't like Catra, who was stuck in this dump because she didn't have any other skills (not that she was particularly good at this either). Why didn't she just _leave?_

Watching Tessaro try to regain her composure now, that curiosity got the better of her. "Tessaro?"

_"What?"_

"Why do you even work here?"

She expected Tessaro to snap at her. Instead she only closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with a weary sigh. "Don't ask questions you can't handle the answers to, Catra." 

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean? "Well, now I _really_ wanna know." 

_"Believe me,_ you don't." 

That was another thing that Tessaro was good at: answers that only begged more questions. 

There was no use in pushing it. Tessaro counted out the cash for her float without another word while Catra ate her McDouble. She trudged out of the office with her belly full and her mood inexplicably soured. Nothing made sense. 

At the front, Scorpia looked eager to return to Conversing, but her face fell when she saw Catra's. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Scorpia still looked worried. "Was Tessaro—" 

"I'm _fine,_ Scorpia." She swapped the floats over, thrusting Scorpia's into her hands. "Just put it in the office and leave, she's in one of her moods."

Scorpia was moved to bev cell after that, so she didn't have much of a chance to talk to her as the second rush began. Most of the customers who came in around this time on a Friday night were either groups of kids buying a one coke at a time between them so they could loiter in the store or too drunk to navigate the self-serve kiosks, so Catra found her register decently busy. It calmed down after Tessaro went into the lobby to scare the kids away, the one part of the job she _did_ probably enjoy, and by 1AM it was time to start cleaning.

"A customer vomited in the lobby," said Tessaro, materialising next to her when she'd _definitely_ been shedding her hair all over the kitchen two seconds ago. She motioned to the mop bucket Catra had abandoned in the middle of the staff floor earlier. Oops, forgot about that. "Make yourself useful rather than just standing there."

Grumbling to herself, she dragged the bucket, mop and a wet floor sign to the scene of the crime, under the mix of pitious and sadistically gleeful eyes of the customers remaining in lobby. No longer needed in bev cell, Scorpia was soon next to her, under the guise that the nearby table also urgently needed cleaning. If she was coming over to bug her she wished she would at least be upfront about it. 

"What do you want, Scorpia?" she asked eventually.

"What were you gonna say earlier?" 

"What?"

"You know, when you were like _and get this_ , then Octavia came and said—" 

"Right, right." She didn't even feel like talking about Adora anymore. Didn't want to think about her. "She was just like, her usual uppity self. She told me she came out as gay like I was supposed to be proud of her or something." 

"Adora's gay?" 

Yeah, Catra hadn't mentioned that in her previous rants. It had just come up yesterday, as yet another reason Adora sucked and Catra was totally glad she left and even gladder she'd pretty much permanently severed things now. "If you knew her it was _really_ obvious, but no one at school suspected a thing. She just hid behind, you know, being smart and sporty and popular and conventionally pretty, and only comes clean when there's bare _minimal_ chance of backlash. It's fucking pathetic."

Scorpia didn't say anything for a moment, seemingly _very_ focused on scrubbing this one particular spot on the table. "So, uh. What did you say?"

Catra guffawed bitterly. "Well, I was like, you _just_ figured that out?" 

No response. 

"Scorpia?"

"That's…" Scorpia's voice wavered. "That's...kind of mean, Catra." 

Catra's eyes widened. Scorpia had _not_ just— _had_ she?! _"Excuse_ me?" 

"Yeah, I mean…" Scorpia stopped wiping, her shoulders tense, like she regretted ever opening her mouth in the first place. _She should._ "Coming out is really scary, you know? I know college is meant to be more like, open and stuff, but when you've been hearing these messages all your life—" 

"Do _you_ remember coming out, Scorpia?" Catra interrupted.

"Well," Scorpia swallowed, caught off-guard, "not really, I told you how—" 

"Exactly, you didn't _get_ that choice, _did you?"_ Years of torment seemed to flash across Scorpia's face all at once, and Catra immediately felt something that might have been guilt curl in her gut. She considered backing down, even apologising, but she was too riled now; she didn't even notice there was a customer at the register until she saw Scorpia was looking in that direction.

"Do you want me to…" Scorpia motioned towards them, her voice small. 

Catra shrugged. "Yeah, go wild." 

While Scorpia was serving the customer, Catra let her gaze idly wander across the lobby, trying to ignore the churning in her chest— until one particular table grabbed her attention. 

She remembered serving the guy earlier, with his stupid moustache and the wink he gave her as he slid over his credit card, but it was the two girls she was drawn to. One— his girlfriend, going by their body language; mad at him, also going by her body language— looked Indian or something along those lines, blue-black hair coiled in a loose braid that hung over her embroidered blouse. The other— behaving like an awkward third wheel trying to maintain harmony— was a tanned, skinny blonde girl who was dressed like she'd just flown in from Woodstock. Even she seemed _way_ too bougie to be here, in all honesty, but a lot of the good clubs were on this side of town so it wasn't that uncommon for rich college kids to pass through, _that_ wouldn't have warranted Catra's interest _this_ much. 

Then her ears were alerted to a name, and her eyes narrowed. She manoeuvred her floor cleaning operation a little closer so she could listen in. 

"Do you think Adora's gonna come?" the hippy asked the other two.

"She's coming if I have to drag her there by her ponytail," said the girl with the braid, her words dragged along a bored drawl, "did you _see_ her today? That girl's so wound up I thought she was gonna blow." 

Realisation hit Catra with such velocity it took all she had not to show any reaction. _These_ were the girls she'd seen on Adora's Facebook— these were _the_ fucking rich kids. 

She pulled her bucket back in disgust, not wanting to hear any more. Her mopping was an outlet now, as she jammed the mop into the water that was probably dirtier than the actual floor by now and aimlessly sloshed it about, wiping with vigour. Scorpia came out with the table's order soon after, because of fucking course stupid moustache man had requested table service, and when she saw Catra she visibly gulped and made a prompt detour, which tugged at something within her she refused to acknowledge. _Scorpia_ was mad at her? Fucking _Scorpia?_

Unfortunately for Scorpia, though, the detour led her straight into the danger zone, beyond the assumed radius of the wet floor sign. Before Catra could even open her mouth to warn her, there was a yelp, a crash, and Scorpia was on her butt, food and drink strewn across the tiles.

Catra had to look away with a grimace. Okay, so maybe that was a _little_ her fault. She was about to swallow her pride so she could go and make sure she was okay, like the decent human being she obviously wasn't, but the hippy beat her to the chase, immediately jumping up from her seat and rushing over like a princess in shining armour. Moustache man began to stand too, but his girlfriend pulled him back down, watching the scene play out expectantly. What exactly she was expecting was unclear, but her pointed interest drew Catra too.

"Are you okay?" The hippy kneeled beside her, scooping the mess together into one pile while Scorpia rubbed her tailbone with a wince. 

"I am _so_ sorry—" Scorpia started.

"Don't worry about that," the girl assured, "can you stand?"

Scorpia made an attempt, expression twisting in pain. "But your _food_ — they're gonna have to remake it all— _ow_ — oh gosh, kitchen are gonna be _so_ mad, _Tessaro's_ gonna—"

"Shh, shh, it's okay." The hippy gave her the gentlest of smiles, laying her hand on her arm to help her up, and Catra had to hold back from rolling her eyes as she watched a deeper hue spread across Scorpia's cheeks. "Who's Tessaro? The black-haired lady? I'll explain to her—"

"I'll tell her," Catra cut in, sharp and cold. "Go sit down, Scorpia. It's fine."

Without waiting for a response she left behind that lawsuit in the making and turned on her heel, mop and bucket in tow. When she made the mistake of looking back, she saw that Scorpia had made it back to her feet with help from the hippy, the hippy's hand just a little too settled on Scorpia's shoulder; their eyes meeting and lingering for just a moment too long. 

She didn't know _why_ it was too anything. She didn't know why the sight made her stomach turn. 

On front, she told Grizzlor there'd been an Incident, then she told kitchen they'd need to remake the last in-store order. She ignored the round of groans and complaints that followed as she went to empty the mop bucket into the drain under the sink, tilting the bucket too far, putrid water splashing across the floor, the walls and— of course— her pants. After half-heartedly dabbing at it all with an already dirty cloth, she made her way back through the kitchen and went into bev cell to remake the drinks herself. Any kind of distraction. Anything. 

"Kyle is cleaning up your mess," came Tessaro's voice. Just who she needed. Catra didn't even bother looking at her. "Fortunate for you that Scorpia lacks the initiative to sue, or I would see to it that the legal fees came out of _your_ check."

"You need something?" Catra asked flatly. 

"Coffee," said Tessaro. "Surprise me." 

_Surprise me_ in Tessaro-speak roughly translated to _whatever choice you make I will criticise._ After yesterday a part of her wanted to make her a caramel mocha or something, god knew she could use the extra calories, but she wasn't about to go out of her way for this miserable woman. She made her a normal black coffee, placing it on the cart without a word, and returned to making a McFlurry with the agonisingly slow machine. It was probably going to break soon, it had been a little _too_ reliable the past few hours. 

"Scorpia left early," Tessaro added, "in case you weren't aware." 

No, Catra was not aware. Scorpia wasn't supposed to leave til 3, and she'd been hoping to talk to her before then. 

Over a year that they'd worked together, and this was the first time Scorpia had left before Catra without saying goodbye. Ouch. Fucking _ouch._

With no one else watching, Tessaro brought down her mask, bringing the coffee to her marred lips even though it was had to be _way_ too hot. Catra made a mental note to add 'drank freshly scalding McDonald's black coffee' to her list of 'what the hell happened to Tessaro's face' theories. Her and Catra's eyes met, Catra patiently awaited her complaint, and something bleak and sombre flickered across Tessaro's expression, there and gone before Catra could pinpoint what it was. 

"You need to fill up the grounds," was all she said, "this coffee tastes like hot bean water." 

Pretty half-assed as far as beratement went. Like she couldn't even be bothered insulting her anymore, like hatred had simmered to apathy. 

She thought yesterday again. In that regard, fucking _preferred_ yesterday. 

As Tessaro went on her way, she set the order's drinks to the side for Kyle to take out and climbed onto the footstool to fill the coffee grounds, then put the other coffee machine on the cleaning cycle since Grizzlor obviously hadn't. She knew Tessaro had left when she heard the music switch over. The song she had been humming earlier came on as she was writing up her stock list, but suffice to say she wasn't feeling it anymore. This girl did _not_ just wanna have fun. This girl wanted to go to bed.

"Catra!" called a new starter from the front, who in fairness was holding out here longer than Catra thought she would. Maybe she'd actually need to learn her name at some point. "You have a customer!" 

Catra had made the mistake of opening the milkshake machine to check syrup levels, and now she was wrestling with the tubes to get the damn thing closed again. "Can't you get it?" 

"I haven't been trained on registers," the newbie replied sheepishly. 

Ugh, goddammit.

She stood up, kicking the door shut behind her (it immediately sprang open again). She was even more annoyed when she saw who the customer was. What was _she_ still doing here? 

"What can I get for you?" She used the same blunt, impassive tone she had on Beatrix, not even attempting her customer service voice. 

"Oh, I'm not ordering anything." The hippy offered a smile Catra did not return, though her eyes had drifted past her, peering into the kitchen area. "Um, is…" 

"If you're asking about that clutz, she's _fine,"_ Catra said impatiently, "she went home." 

"She— oh." The hippy's face fell in disappointment. She glanced at her two friends, who were waiting by the exit; the girl with the braid motioned aggressively, mouthing _go on_. "Well." She turned back to Catra, smiling again. "When you see her again, could you give her this?"

What she handed Catra was the table's receipt. She was confused at first, until she unfolded it and saw the girl had written her name at the bottom _(the fuck kind of name is Perfuma?)_ , embellished with a little flower— and her...number. 

A lump of lead settled in Catra's throat.

"Yeah." She tried to swallow. "Will do." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and respond to comments in due time, I do really appreciate all the feedback so far and it's a big part of what's kept me churning out chapters relatively quickly, it's just been- like I said- a McWeek


	8. McDepression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm once again sorry for the even slower update, life got in the way and I honestly lost motivation for a while. The motivation is back, we'll just have to see how everything else goes.
> 
> I did finally update the tags, though!
> 
> **Warnings:** Covert racism; brief references to homophobia/internalised homophobia; underage drinking (again, all characters are over 18)

"Well, it's official." Glimmer showed no regard for library etiquette as she stormed like a whirlwind into the cosy nook the Best Friend Squad had managed to claim, falling back on one of the beanbags. "My mom has a secret boyfriend!"

Awkward glances were exchanged among the students. 

_"Okay."_ Mermista drew out the first syllable, quirking a brow. "What brought this on?" 

"Well, first of all, is it _normal_ for moms to just _disappear_ two nights in one week?" 

"Don't know." Bow shrugged, highlighting another line in his textbook. He somehow had some neon yellow highlighter smudged on his cheek; if Glimmer wasn't so distracted, she would already be attacking him with a tissue. "Don't have one." He glanced apologetically Adora's way, realising that might have been in poor taste, but Adora exasperatedly waved him off. She hadn't minded jokes like that before, why would she have cared now?

"How about when one of those times is at _two fucking am?"_ Glimmer lowered her voice as Bow motioned for her to shush, nodding towards the glowering librarian nearby. "Like, what is she doing, _clubbing?"_

"It is strange," Perfuma mused, "but it doesn't necessarily mean she's seeing someone, maybe she's…" She trailed off. Even Perfuma, who was always looking for the silver lining, always trying to see the best in everyone, couldn't seem to think of a better explanation. 

_"And!"_ Glimmer's voice rose a pitch, earning a _shh!_ from the librarian. "On Thursday— remember Thursday morning? You all strewn across the house like a bunch of dead fish? Empty wine bottles and pizza boxes? Wine stain on the rug? Sea Hawk's vomit in the plant pot?" (Sea Hawk opened his mouth to protest that he'd done nothing of the sort, just as he had when he was literally hanging over said plant pot, but Glimmer didn't give him the chance) _"Well,_ her _Majesty_ Queen of _Squaresville's_ response was—" She broke off only to get into character, smoothing her hair down and shifting into a really bad English accent. _"Well, Glimma, if you're_ going _to engage in underage drinking I would much rather you do it at home with your friends than gallivanting around god knows where with god knows whom."_

"Oh, you _nailed_ that," Bow snickered. 

"Thank you." Glimmer smiled at him. "I've been practicing— but _anyway…"_ And she was off again. "First of all, who does she think she is? God knows where, god knows _whom?_ Like _she's_ one to talk! Who even _says_ whom? _Whom._ And come on, you guys _know_ my mom, why would she have been so chill about it _unless_ she had a guilty conscience?" 

It did make sense, Adora just couldn't empathise. She continued to half-listen, absently scrolling through her Facebook feed on her laptop, the document containing her essay (due in two days, 5% completed in terms of bare minimum word count) once again abandoned.

"The worst part is? I even _tried_ to make excuses for her. I was like, no way, no _way_ is my mother, Angella Brighton, having some steamy love affair on the DL. Maybe she's, I don't know, maybe she's working late or something! But then, this morning, she comes into my room, and her hand's like this—" She placed hers over the crook of her neck. "And she goes _Glimma, darling, do you think I could nick some of that Shape Tape?_ Pray tell, guys, pray fucking tell, what my _mother_ need to cover on her _neck_ with _Shape Tape?"_

Adora had never worn more than lip gloss and mascara in her life, and that was only for senior prom, but from what Glimmer had told her, Shape Tape was some pricey concealer that could basically cover up a murder (or, in one occasion for Glimmer, a hickey). 

"I hear wedding bells," Sea Hawk half-sang, but he shut up with the glare Glimmer shot his way.

"Okay, so, like..." Glimmer looked away with a releasing sigh. "I kind of get it. She might think _I_ think she's replacing dad, but like, I _want_ her to be happy. I mean, she's been single a-as long as I remember, she deserves to move on at some point, right? I'm literally _open_ to having a new step-dad if it comes to that, as long as he treats her right and stuff. It's just _so_ messed up cos you _know_ if mom found out _I_ was seeing a guy who wasn't, like, _Bow_ , she'd want a resume, she'd want character references, she'd want a background check and a record of his family tree back to the fucking stone age— yet I can't even _meet_ this guy? I can't even know he _exists?_ He could be a mobster or something for all the fuck I know."

"I don't think your mom's gonna date a mobster, Glimmer," said Bow. 

He was probably trying to be reassuring, but Glimmer only seemed more incensed. "Then _why_ is she being so _weird_ about it?" 

"It probably isn't anything personal," Mermista chimed in with a shrug, "your mom's got her reputation to think about, right? She's probably just trying to avoid a scandal."

Glimmer narrowed her eyes. "What _kind_ of scandal?"

"It's probably not anything like, _illegal—"_

_"Probably?"_

"Look, I'm not the one being scrutinised here." Mermista half-raised her hands in surrender. "Maybe he's a colleague she shouldn't be dating. _Maybe_ he's married. Maybe he's like twenty and your mom doesn't want everyone to know she's a cougar. _Maybe_ it's not even a guy."

It seemed to take Glimmer a second to realise what she meant by that last part. "Holy shit, I hadn't even thought of that. That's almost worse. She _knows_ I'm bi, why would she think _I_ would care?" 

"She might not be ready to come out." Another shrug. "I don't _know,_ Glimmer, I'm just spitballing here. And no offense but your mom is one of the most excruciatingly heterosexual people I've ever met, so I'm gonna say it's _pretty_ unlikely anyway. Have you like, checked her phone or whatever?" 

"What? No!" Glimmer balked. "That’s such an invasion of privacy, I’m not doing that!"

_"Right."_ Mermista exhaled through her nose. "Think of it _this_ way— if the roles were reversed…"

Glimmer took a moment to think about it. "I'll...see if I can swipe it tonight. But what am I gonna do I do _til_ then? This is driving me _crazy!"_

"I'll tell you what you're gonna do, Glimmer." Mermista slipped down from her seat next to Sea Hawk and crouched before Glimmer, taking both her shoulders. "You're gonna take a deep breath in, deep breathe out, and you're gonna _chill_ before you get us all kicked out of this library, okay?"

Mermista was probably the only person in the world who could tell someone to chill and _actually_ yield that result _._ Glimmer followed her instructions then nodded, shoulders relaxing. "Okay. Okay. I'm chill. I'm good." Mermista gave a satisfied nod as she returned to her seat, and Glimmer turned to the rest of the group, "so! How were you guys' weekends?" 

"Well!" Perfuma, who seemed the most eager to change the subject, clapped her hands together, grinning apologetically at the round of hushes that followed. _"I_ had my first McDonald's!" 

Adora tensed at the mention. 

"Oh god, here we go." Mermista rolled her eyes, but a small smile teased the corners of her lips. 

Bow almost looked mortified. "You've _never_ been to a McDonald's before?" 

Perfuma giggled, waving her hand. "Oh, goodness no. My parents always said McDonald's is the epitome of everything wrong with corporate America— and they were right, of course, but we all have our moments of weakness! I did find their vegan menu to be sorely lacking, but…" She tapered off with a smile, sighing wistfully. "There was...a girl."

And there it was, those four magic words that flung everyone's investment headfirst into Perfuma's tale. Even Adora, in her profoundly unsociable mood, immediately closed her laptop. 

(Not Entrapta, though. She’d actually been here, physically, this entirely time, but mentally she was carried on the wings of her fancy new laptop's wifi to another plane of existence entirely. It was best just to leave her alone when she was that focused.) 

"Well, _now_ I hear wedding bells," Glimmer grinned devilishly as Perfuma's cheeks darkened, "c'mon, Perfuma, what was her name?" 

"I…" Perfuma shifted, a little embarrassed. "Never actually found that out."

_"Oh?"_ Bow raised his eyebrows, equally teasing. "So she’s a _mysterious_ one, huh? What'd she look like?" 

"She was tall." Perfuma's eyes seemed to glaze over, like she was seeing her now. "Strong, _so_ strong, but such a _gentle_ spirit— do you ever meet someone and immediately just get the _best_ vibes from them? She had these beautiful brown eyes, and this fluffy white hair, like freshly fallen snow…" 

"Yeah," said Mermista, as Perfuma was momentarily swept away in her daydream, "she has _not_ shut up about this girl." 

"She _was_ very pretty," Sea Hawk remarked. 

"Yeah, I'm not gonna forget _you_ hitting on her after that angry mop girl left." Mermista rolled her eyes. " _Really_ barking up the wrong tree there, dumbass. But...you're right." That sounded like that was hard to say. "She _was_ really hot. I don't think I've ever seen someone pull off a McDonald's uniform so well." 

Adora's breath caught in her throat, her meeting with Catra flashing across her mind. "Scorpia?" she whispered. 

She hadn't actually meant to say that aloud. Now all eyes were on her. 

Oh god. She hadn't told the extended Squad the truth yet. As far as they were concerned, she was still that country girl from Tennessee. 

"I like McDonald's," she lied. Bow and Glimmer exchanged a look. "I've seen her there before." 

Thankfully, they seemed to accept that explanation. That or any doubt was overridden by Entrapta speaking up. "Which McDonald's was this?" 

Everyone had grown so accustomed to Entrapta's quiet presence that at first they were stunned to silence themselves. They probably wouldn't have been more thrown off if one of the beanbags had decided to chip in. Why was _this_ what had compelled Entrapta to return to Earth? 

Mermista was the one to answer, "uh, that one in the Horde District? In the shitty strip mall? Do you...know it?" 

Entrapta gave a sly, mysterious smile. "I know _of_ it." 

"What…." Glimmer spoke then, swallowing, like she was afraid of the answer. "Is that...supposed to mean?" 

"If I tell you any more now it might interfere with my research," said Entrapta.

"You're researching a _McDonald's?"_ Sea Hawk asked incredulously.

"Well, the McDonald's is a small part of it," said Entrapta, "but my investigation concerns something much, _much_ bigger."

"Scorpia." Perfuma murmured, rolling the name over her tongue; she was lagging a little behind in the conversation. "Yes. I can see that being her name. It feels like her." 

It seemed as good a time as any to shift the conversation back from that cryptic detour. 

"You're _smitten_ with this girl, aren't you?" Bow was smiling like a proud dad who was already picturing the wedding day.

"Please tell me you made _some_ kind of move," said Glimmer. 

"I did leave my number." Perfuma grinned. "Sea Hawk and Mermista had to talk me into it, I was _so_ nervous. Unfortunately by the time I worked up the courage her shift had already ended! I had to give it to her friend to pass on." 

"Have you heard from her yet?" Adora asked, really hoping this friend wasn't who she thought it was. 

"Well…no." Perfuma seemed to wilt, but bloomed anew just as quickly. "But it's only been a few days! I can wait for her."

Oh boy. 

"Uh-huh." Adora's chest tightened. Bow and Glimmer exchanged another look. "Do you...remember what the friend looked like?"

"Oh, she had very striking eyes," said Perfuma, "one brown and one blue! I think she must have been having a bad shift, poor thing, she didn't seem very happy."

Adora nodded, her lips pursed. Bow and Glimmer's eyes met hers, just for a moment, and Adora gave another solemn nod that made her consensus clear: Perfuma was _not_ going to be hearing from Scorpia any time soon. 

* * *

Catra hadn't realised how much her days depended on Scorpia's daily good morning cat meme until she woke up without one. 

Ideally she would have slept through the day after her night shift, rested and ready for the overwrought chaos of tonight's Saturday close, but she could barely seem to skim the surface of unconsciousness. She tossed and turned for a while, occasionally managing to drift off before jerking awake again to check her phone. It was only a couple of hours— maybe about a cumulative hour of actual sleep— before she gave up in restless frustration, detangling herself from her sheets and rolling onto her cluttered floor. She'd only tidied her room a couple days ago already the mess was building up again. What was even the point?

She plodded downstairs in her pyjamas and looked through the freshly stocked up food cupboards, only to end up grabbing her usual box of cereal from the top of the fridge. She didn't even bother with milk or a bowl, scarfing down handfuls straight from the box as she scrolled through Netflix, trying to settle on something to watch. 

Scorpia should have definitely been awake by now. A part of her wanted to message her and ask how she was after the fall last night, but she couldn't bring herself to message first. All she needed was one notification— a text, a like— to rationalise that Scorpia hadn't slipped from her grasp, but nothing came. 

Turning off the TV, she set her cereal to the side and sank down on the couch, almost wishing it could just swallow her whole and smother her in that sweet, black nothingness. The living room felt far too big for just one person; the world beyond far too much to even stand the thought of it. When the others had been here and Tessaro wasn't, the space would have been filled with warmth and bickering and laughter that let them all forget the miserable reality of their situations for a while. She and Adora alone had enough between them to make everything including Tessaro's ever-impending wrath feel like it was going to be okay. She had really, truly thought they were going to take on the world together, or at least cultivate a place for themselves amidst all the bullshit.

But Adora had always had a future. And that was what Catra could never fully admit to herself— because Adora _was_ her future. 

This was how it was always going to be, wasn't it? A vast and daunting world with no place for her in it, and this aching, growing emptiness, hollowing her out until there would be nothing left of her anyway. 

* * *

It was beginning to look like Glimmer wasn't going to have a chance to snoop through her mom's phone after all, because Angella was wanted at a colleague's birthday dinner. 

"I'm sure it won't be _that_ bad," Bow assured, having taken over Angella's tea-making while Glimmer attempted to help her with the last couple inches of her dress' zipper. It often seemed like Bow got along with Angella better than Glimmer herself did, especially right now as Bow carried the conversation while Glimmer's jaw stayed set in a stony silence. He threw another cursory glance her way: _not now._ "I thought you liked Jumana." 

"She's nice enough company _within_ working hours." Angella brushed her strawberry blonde waves from over one shoulder to the other, keeping it out of the way of the zipper. In guilt-riddled curiosity, Adora's eyes subtly searched for the hickey Glimmer had alluded to, but she supposed the concealer must have been covering it up. "It's _Susan_ I'm bloody dreading. I told you she finally came off holiday, didn't I? I've already spent the better part of my downtime today listening to her bang on about her _spiritually enlightening_ month in that Himalayan yoga retreat." She shook her head with a tsk. "Oh god, poor Buhur and Jumana. On Jumana's birthday too." 

Buhur Begum and Jumana Khan were Mermista's parents. A lot of Glimmer's friendships had initially been forged through familial connections; when Adora had first met her through Bow she thought she was the most confident, self-assured girl in the world, because why wouldn't she be, but it turned out she had been even more socially anxious through her childhood than Adora was, and a lot worse at hiding it. 

"I thought Mermista's parents were from Bangladesh," Adora spoke up without thinking, and instantly regretted it. She hoped Angella didn't think she was being rude. "The Himalayas don't...go through there, do they?" 

"They're also Muslim, but I highly doubt Susan Smith of all people is going to know or care about the difference, my love." Angella sighed. "Oh god, I'm actually glad she never got to meet my Micah." (Adora saw Glimmer's lip curl at the mention.) "It was bad enough her finding a photo and telling me all about her _magical_ one night stand in Busan. He'd never _been_ to blooming Korea." 

"Well you know how blunt those two are, they probably won't put up with it for too long," said Bow, "if anything, you might get to watch some fun dinner drama."

Angella rolled her eyes with a smile. "One can dream, I suppose." 

"Or _maybe,"_ Glimmer said, _"you_ could say something?" With one last impatient yank, she finally got the zip up. "You know, rather than _keeping things to yourself?"_

Adora's chest tightened, the way it always did when her friends argued with her parents in front of her. Angella visibly swallowed, looking a little embarrassed. She probably hadn't caught the other implication, but Adora knew this issue had been a point of contention between them before. The two had very different experiences, and _very_ different stances on holding one's tongue for the sake of keeping the peace. 

"If she starts," Angella began, and she turned, having to lean down in her heels to take her daughter's shoulders. "I _will_ speak up, alright? You have my word." 

"Okay. Great." Glimmer brushed her away, stepping back. "So when're you leaving?" 

Angella quickly withdrew her hands like she'd been singed, then checked her silver Rolex. "Oh, around about now, actually." She exhaled. "I think I'll order a taxi, god knows I'll need the wine tonight." 

Bow snorted. "Have fun, Angella." 

"Have fun, Ms. Brighton," Adora half-echoed, ever-unsure whether she was on first name terms with her.

Glimmer gave a small, tight-lipped smile. 

"Thank you. You three have fun too. No wild parties, now, remember it's a school night." She waggled her finger, obviously not entirely serious, but Glimmer watched her retreating back like she was about to shoot lasers from her eyes. Nobody spoke again until they heard the front door close. 

_"Remember it's a school night,"_ Glimmer repeated in her bad British accent, "oh my _god,_ she is _such_ a hypocrite! Ugh, I should have just confronted her there and then. _Why_ wouldn't you let me confront her, Bow?" 

"Look, you don't even know for sure she's seeing someone yet." Bow looked at his hands, like he'd forgotten what he was doing. "Though they're putting her in a _really_ good mood if she is, I've never seen her so cheerful before a work function."

  
Glimmer scoffed. "I don’t envy her, that’s for sure. Does she have any actual life? Or _friends?_ No wonder she has this secret affair going on, the scandal alone is probably the most excitement she’s _had_ since college." 

Adora stayed quiet, digging her fingers into her arms as she folded them over the counter. She was intimidated by Angella, but in a way she looked to her as an inspiration, since she had succeeded in all the ways Adora was striving to. Had this been a glimpse into her own future? Working all day around people she couldn't stand, then going home and putting on a prettier mask and an unforgiving dress to go for dinner with those same people and their spouses? Would _she_ be expected to have a spouse? A husband? Probably. _And_ she would probably cave. No, she would _definitely_ cave. They would gaze into each other's eyes in wedding photos and fake-laugh arm-in-arm at dinner parties and have missionary sex once a week at 9PM. They would have a son and a daughter and a dog and a house with a picket fence and a Volvo out front, and she would only pray their children wouldn't wonder why they didn't have two sets of grandparents. It would be safe. Stable. Maybe even content.

God, as if she wasn’t already having a stressful and depressing week, now her future looked like a 50s commercial. 

She hadn't realised she had zoned out of something until Glimmer took her arm. 

"Hey," she said, "are you okay? You've seemed really…"

"Out of it," said Bow. 

Adora avoided their eyes, drawing back from the counter to wrap her arms around her queasy stomach. Where did she even start? What _wasn’t_ wrong?

"I don't want to go back to my dorm," she said quietly. 

"That's okay, you can sleep here," said Glimmer, "how come, though? Did something happen?" 

"Not really." Adora shrugged. "My roommate's just been really weird with me since I told her I was gay." 

_"What?"_ Bow's jaw dropped, surprise quickly giving way to anger, "No way, she _never_ struck me as a homophobe, what the hell?!"

_"Yeah!_ Me neither!" Adora's face immediately fell apologetically; she didn't mean to explode at him, and she certainly didn't mean for her voice to crack either. "I'm just…" She gesticulated vaguely. "I'm _stressed!_ I missed practice this weekend, my coach was _so_ pissed and she sent a bunch of messages I haven't even brought myself to open yet. I _still_ haven't done my essay, I don't feel _remotely_ prepared for finals! I feel like an imposter, like I somehow, like, scammed my way in here, and it's only a matter of time before I lose _everything_ and let _everybody_ down except I don't even know who's even _rooting_ for me at this point and I– I…" Her elbows were back on the counter as she dropped her face into her hands. "I...saw Catra last week. The day after the party."

"Oh," said Bow.

"Ah," said Glimmer.

Bow rubbed her back. "Okay, let's take this one thing at a time. Contact Coach Huntara tomorrow, tell her you had a personal crisis or however you wanna word it, I'm sure she'll understand. I'll even help you compose the text if you want." 

"And we're _all_ stressed about finals," said Glimmer. "It's totally normal. I can barely even bring myself to _think_ about them. You'll pump out a great essay last minute like you always do, and we'll all have a big cram session at some point, okay? Only like, we'll _actually_ study this time. No alcohol. _Maybe_ pizza."

"And we're _all_ rooting for you," said Bow, "I bet even…" He paused. "Uh, so, do you wanna...talk about the Catra thing?" 

Adora sniffed, shaking her head. "Not really." 

She used to have these stupid fantasies of her and Catra's future together. A loft apartment, bathed golden in the early morning light. Catra's hair splayed across the pillow, squinting and grumbling as Adora drew open the curtains, still radiant in all her sleepiness. Cooked breakfast, coffee brewed in one of those fancy coffee makers she'd at that point only seen on TV. Dancing barefoot in the kitchen, watching Netflix under a shared blanket on the couch. She was less intimidated by the future when she pictured it with Catra, because whatever happened she would always have their safe bubble to come home to. It had all seemed so simple. 

Sniffing again, she sat back up, glad she'd at least managed to keep the tears at bay, but then her friends hugged her and a couple escaped down her cheeks. She really needed a good cry at some point, but in her own time, not in front of anyone. 

"Wait, shit," Bow suddenly said, "I was making tea, wasn't I?" 

"Don't worry about it, I'm good," said Glimmer. 

"Me too," said Adora. Someday, she thought to herself, she might actually confess that she'd never liked tea, but even declining felt sacrilegious under Angella’s roof. 

"You feeling a little better?" Bow asked. 

"Yeah." Adora gave a faint smile. "I do, actually. Thank you, guys." 

"Hey." Glimmer squeezed her shoulders. "It's gonna be okay." 

Adora nodded, feeling the assurance down to her bones. "I know." 

"So going back to things that are probably none of our business," said Bow, "what do you guys think we should do about the Perfuma-Scorpia situation?" 

* * *

It wasn't unusual for Tessaro to disappear for a day or more, but it _was_ unusual for her to not turn up to work.

Catra tried not to think too much of it. She had more immediately pressing matters to contend with. Like how she was less than an hour into her shift and she'd already had a customer's entire order thrown at her. As the driver hurled one last insult her way before cruising down to berate the poor suckers at the next window she found herself frozen stiff, mind fuzzy, hands quivering, the next customer already at the window asking over and over if she was okay _(you know it's bad when the middle aged white lady with the asymmetrical haircut is concerned for your wellbeing)_ as her headset beeped incessantly. When Kyle came to ask her that same question, she wordlessly gave him the headset and left.

Grizzlor, covering Tessaro (how the turn tables), caught her before she made it out the kitchen. "Hey, Catra, what was the deal with that order?" 

Catra harshly swallowed, but still struggled to keep her voice steady. Her hands were still shaking. "Big Mac didn't have enough sauce. Coke had too much ice. Fries were cold."

"Okay." Grizzlor began to count off the demands on his fingers. "So no sauce in the Big Mac, a whole cup of ice, tepid fries— _and_ a _very_ generous helping of Grizzlor's special sauce." Catra almost managed a grim smirk at that last part. _Grizzlor's special sauce_ wasn't some weird innuendo like she'd thought it was when she first heard it, it just meant Grizzlor was going to spit in the food. "Go cool off in the break room, I'll see if I can find you a spare shirt once I've dealt with this moron."

She nodded in thanks and made a dash for the break room before anyone else could stop her. Dropping into one of the chairs, she only choked up once, twice, before she furiously wiped her eyes. A good cry would probably be cathartic, if nothing else, but she just couldn't do it, she felt pathetic. Not to mention the risk of somebody coming in, she'd never live that down.

Sure enough, somebody soon did. And of course it had to be fucking Scorpia. Why the hell not?

The gentle giant hesitated in the doorway a moment, looking like she was contemplating turning around and leaving again, but it was too late to do that without making it obvious. Catra kept her head bowed as Scorpia awkwardly seated herself a couple chairs away, hoping she didn't look like she'd been crying, and ignored the rustling of her food bag; the smell of fries grimly reminded her she hadn't eaten since those handfuls of cereal this morning. On any other day, Scorpia would already be offering her some.

"Hey," said Scorpia. 

"Hey," Catra muttered, finally bringing herself to look her way. 

"You okay?" Scorpia asked. 

"Nope." And she was sick of people asking her that. 

Scorpia gave a small nod. "I heard what happened. People are such _jerks_ sometimes, I don't get it." 

"Yeah." Though if Catra had been in literally any other mood, she probably would have torn the customer a new one then been able to laugh the whole thing off afterwards, but it wasn't exactly as if people like that guy cared what kind of day the employee they were abusing was having. If Scorpia could tell she had been crying, she was actually pretty insulted she'd think _that_ was her normal reaction to a shitty customer, but it probably wasn’t her place to be mad at Scorpia right now. "How's the, uh, butt?" 

"It kinda hurts to sit down." Scorpia shifted in her seat. "But it also kinda hurts to stand up. And to lie down. It kinda hurts all the time, actually."

"Uh. Yeah." Catra gulped. "I'm...uh, sorry, about...that." 

Scorpia seemed to relax a little then. "No, it's okay, I know you didn't mean it." Then she smiled, offering out her bag. "Fries?" 

Catra accepted some gratefully, a tsunami of relief washing over her. Instantly, she felt stupid to have been reeling so much over this in the first place— of course _Scorpia_ wouldn't be able to stay mad at her. 

(And if Scorpia was gonna accept that apology for what she said too, that was absolutely fine by her; maybe, like her, she just wanted things to return to normal.)

The door opened and in came Grizzlor, tossing Catra a polo. "Oh, hey, Scorpia. You okay, Catra?" 

_If_ one _more person—_

Catra shrugged. "Yeah, I've kind of calmed down." 

"Sweet. That customer's not welcome back by the way. Or...I mean, I told him he wasn't, but I dunno how to enforce that. I'll have to ask Bee, I guess. Maybe I need to cast a hex or something." He ran his hand through his unruly hair, seeming a little frazzled. "Uh, you wouldn't happen to know where she _is,_ would you?" 

"No idea." She held back from mentioning that she'd been ill and that _might_ have had something to do with her absence, because Tessaro would probably skin her alive for exposing her vulnerabilities to Grizzlor of all people. Why _should_ she make excuses for the old bitch, anyway? "She didn't come home last night." 

"Okay. Right. 'Cause, I...just got off the phone with Hordak, and he told me to tell you to tell her that if she doesn't show up tomorrow, don't bother showing up on Monday." 

Uh oh. "Yeah, I'll tell her when I see her." 

"Okay. Sweet." He gave a thumbs up. "Just come back out whenever you're ready, it's actually kinda slow for a Saturday." 

"Thanks."

"Hm." Scorpia's brow furrowed as Grizzlor left. "I didn't even know Tessaro was supposed to be in today. Has she _ever_ pulled a no-show?" 

"Not as far as I know." The fries were tasting a little like actual, plain potato now. Catra forced them down and lowered her voice. "She's been, uh...not in great shape, and I genuinely don't actually know where the fuck she is." She never did, in fairness, but this time just seemed...

She couldn't help but have a bad feeling. But then again, this whole _day_ had just been one big bad feeling. 

"Wherever she is, I'm sure she can handle herself," Scorpia tried to assure her, patting her back, "she has seemed _really_ tired lately, it's really nice of Hordak to give her a three day weekend." She misinterpreted Catra's deep sigh and changed her subject by whipping out her phone. "Oh! Speaking of weekend—" 

Catra took a moment to look over what she was showing her. It was a Facebook event for next Saturday, a karaoke night at The Enchanted Grotto, which she knew to be a really stupidly-named gay bar in Silaneas. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the Etheria University logo in the cover picture. Was _this_ what those rich kids had been talking about inviting Adora to? That would be a really crazy coincidence, though. 

Unless—

"Did…" Catra tried to keep her tone level, non-accusing. "Did...that blonde girl tell you about this?" 

"I might have heard her mention it," Scorpia answered coyly, cheeks going a little pink. Catra, somewhat guiltily, thought of Perfuma's number, now torn up and stuffed down the bottom of her bedroom trash can, but she quickly pushed it aside. "I thought it'd be fun to go together, you've seemed like you need to unwind a little. Plus I'm…" She rubbed her arm. "Kind of nervous to go by myself." 

"Wait." Catra was reading the description. "If it's hosted by the EU LGBTQ+ Society, wouldn't you need to be a student to get in?" 

"It's probably not _that_ exclusive. I have my ID, anyway. And look," Scorpia pointed to the screen, "it says you can bring a plus one."

"Wait. Wait a minute—" Catra looked at her wide-eyed. _"You're_ a student?"

"I'm sure I told you." Scorpia drew back, a little wounded. "I started a pre-nursing course in January, remember? It's why I'm only doing two or three shifts a week now."

"Well, yeah, _obviously!"_ (She'd forgotten, actually; she'd doubted Scorpia would actually stick with it, or at least that might have been what she'd told herself.) "I just didn't realise it was, like— actual _university._ I assumed it was community college or something.” (Good enough save, anyway.)

"The nursing school's a different campus from Adora," Scorpia quickly pointed out as if _that_ was the issue, which it _totally_ wasn't. "And I'm not really... _involved,_ you know? You know I still live with my moms. I signed up to the LGBTQ+ society at the beginning of the semester 'cause I thought it might be easier to make friends with other gay people, but I only went to one meeting. It just felt...awkward. They weren't really...my people, or I wasn't _their_ person, I didn’t know what to...do or say." 

This was all a lot to take in. "So why do you wanna go to this thing? Won't it just be the same deal?"

"Well…" Scorpia looked away sheepishly. "I already said I thought it would be fun if the two of us...I mean, I like singing, _you_ like singing, we're both...you know what, never mind, it's a dumb idea. Forget I said anything." 

"Since when did _I—"_ Catra's protest was cut short as she saw Scorpia slump in defeat. Ugh, oh god, here came that guilt again. "Scorpia, no, we are _going_ to that karaoke night." Scorpia began to perk up, albeit a little hesitantly, like she was anticipating some kind of catch. "And you know what? I'm gonna come to yours after work, we're gonna get ready together like we did on New Year’s. You’re gonna wear that dress, I’m gonna wear that suit, and we're gonna have a blast and show those stuck-up college kids where the raw lesbian power is _really_ at, got it?" 

"Yeah!" Scorpia did a fistpump. "Are you gonna sing ABBA again? _Please_ sing ABBA again." 

"Wha—" Now Catra was the one blushing. "L-look, that was _one_ time, and you _saw_ how drunk I was."

"So drunk you knew all the words?" There was a teasing glint in Scorpia's eye; she laughed as Catra huffed and shoved her shoulder. 

Okay, so maybe she hadn't been _that_ drunk. Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio had decided to kick off the New Year at their place. Pizza and underage drinking abound, and way too many people crammed into their tiny apartment, most of whom Catra didn't know and she was fairly sure the hosts didn't either. Kyle had been put in charge of the playlist for god knows what reason, and Catra ensured to make the occasional half-hearted jab about his taste to whoever would listen, too caught up in the buzz to put any real effort into pretending she _wasn't_ enjoying herself. Euphoria peeled back her inhibitions piece by peace, and one chorus into Dancing Queen she could stand it no more: she was up, Scorpia was up, Scorpia sang well and Catra sang terribly, and she only amped up her show when she noticed Lonnie smirking with her phone camera out. It was _fun._ Simple, boundless fun, at a point where she had been beginning to forget what that felt like. 

She hadn't come close to replicating that feeling since.

"Don't get your hopes up," she sort-of relented, "and don't think for a _second_ I'm going up there by myself. We go down _together,_ Scorpia."

"That's fine by me!" Something about the way Scorpia was smiling made Catra's stomach twist, as she suddenly recalled _another_ moment from that night.

Catra's anger drove her to do stupid things, but so did her happiness. 

(Was it better, safer, to feel nothing? But she was far too weak to close herself off like that. She craved freedom; missed it like a long-gone friend.) 

"I better go clean up," she said quickly, standing up, the polo shirt balled up in her hands. "You know, before everyone in Etheria suddenly remembers it's Saturday."

In the tiny employee bathroom stall, in a polo that turned out to be several sizes too big, as she attempted to get the stickiness of coke and Big Mac sauce out of her hair, she took some time to properly mull things over. Okay, so _maybe_ Scorpia _did_ just want to go there to see Perfuma, and Catra was just an afterthought, an emotional support cat, but if the two were going to cross paths again anyway Catra would much rather be there to see it (or stop it) than be left behind entirely. And if _Adora_ was going to be there, well, the prospect of ruining her night with her new friends was just too tempting to resist. 

If not? Then maybe she and Scorpia could make a couple of idiots of themselves on karaoke. 

Either way, Catra was _well_ overdue a good time. 


	9. McFriendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me considered cutting out this chapter right after I finished writing it cos it dragged on way longer than I wanted it to but it gives some nice character insights. I think. I hope.
> 
> Sorry for taking a million years again, HOPEFULLY chapter 10 will be a much shorter wait since it's already partially written (and actually contains McShenanigans, imagine) but x_x 
> 
> **Warnings:** Implied past abuse; references to recreational drug use

Adora submitted her essay a record-breaking one minute and forty-eight seconds before the deadline.

She knew, as she flopped back on the criminally comfortable queen-sized bed, that sleep wasn't going to come easily tonight. Glimmer had given her the guest room so she wouldn't be distracted (obviously vastly underestimating Adora’s unrelenting talent for distraction), but she wasn't sure if she was expected to sleep in here too. Before college, having a room to herself was familiar to her only when Tessaro banished her or Catra to the storage room known in forced jest as The Hole, and those nights had been the worst. They still were. Her roommate wasn't exactly her best friend, especially not now, but she still hated it when she spent her nights elsewhere, leaving Adora alone in that all-encompassing silence to think and remember. Sometimes, in her dorm's tiny single bed with its familiarly hard mattress, she would wake in a daze and reflexively reach out, and reality would rip her from the remainders of her dreams with a loneliness that gnawed her to the core.   
  
Restless, she sat back up, pulling her hair out of her ponytail that had already half-fallen out from running her hands through it. The curtains were still open, but all she saw was her own dishevelled reflection, illuminated by the bluish glow of her laptop. It was raining, the heavy stormclouds overcasting the sky in complete darkness. She wished she could see the stars. 

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed. 

Her stomach was still doing backflips, but she figured it was the remnants of her last minute adrenaline. One day, one day, she would stop doing this to herself, but she'd been saying that to herself since high school, and her coursework had been so much _easier_ in high school. Everything had been easier in high school. 

She checked the time on her monitor. 12.05AM. Glimmer had an 8AM tomorrow so she would hopefully be asleep by now. Bow would _definitely_ be asleep; the man still valued his sleep schedule, way more than Adora woulf have thought possible for a student. She was officially alone. And she still needed to have dinner.

Glimmer’s house was _huge,_ like nothing Adora’s younger self would have ever thought she'd see in person, unless she and Catra were breaking into it when Catra's crazy schemes inevitably escalated. This guest room was so far from the occupied bedrooms that she could probably lead a marching band through the hallway without waking anyone up, but a resurfaced instinct still had her slip out with practiced discretion, wincing at the slight creak of the door as she gently closed it behind her. At home— as if she had the right to still call it that— she had built up a mental map with which to navigate the house at night in silence, each potential obstacle, each squeaky floorboard, marked through years of trial and error, but she didn't have that here, she didn't need it. She wasn't venturing in secrecy. She wasn't doing anything wrong. 

But when she didn't know what she was doing, she was always doing everything wrong. 

It was as she approached the stairs that she heard the music.

A piano medley, softly lilting and dipping in a symphony as serene as it was bittersweet. A still moonlit night, a star-filled sky; the rolling waves of a withdrawing tide, lapping around her ankles, enticing her forward, forward, to a place she yearned to return. At first, it was so quiet she almost thought it was a faint memory, or a half-dream of a sleep-deprived mind. It was only once she reached the landing did she realise it was very much real, and it was coming from the living room. 

She continued to follow the sound, no longer concerned with stealth. She wasn't home anymore. Glimmer's house was nothing like home. 

Though she wasn't sure who else she was expecting, or if she'd thought the notes were producing themselves, through some kind of magic she thought she'd stopped believing in long ago— she was a little taken aback to see Glimmer on the stool. She slipped behind the arched doorway, only for her want to listen, to remain in the dream Glimmer Fu-Brighton of all people was masterfully weaving a little while longer, but the music stopped abruptly then and there. 

The silence drew out, anxiety clawed its way back up Adora's throat, only to slide back down with Glimmer's soft, "...mom?" 

"It's just me," Adora said, stepping out from her hiding place with her hands raised. She didn't know why she felt the need to do that, but Glimmer seemed to relax. 

"Oh," she said, her cheeks pinkening, "thank god. I, uh, I didn't wake you, did I?"

Her relief threw Adora off a little. Why wouldn't Glimmer _want_ her mom to hear that? 

"I _literally_ just finished my paper." She sat down next to Glimmer, who shuffled along to make room. They both _just_ about fit on the stool. "But I couldn't hear you from the guest room, you know how big this place is."

Glimmer eyed her incredulously. "Didn't you say you only had a couple paragraphs left to write?" 

"Yeah, well, that was…" Adora looked away. 

"Complete bullshit?" Glimmer grinned.

Adora huffed, lightly elbowing her. "Well, you're one to talk, _you_ told me this piano was here for show."

"It was _sarcasm,_ Adora." Glimmer elbowed her back. "You _actually_ thought we had a ten thousand dollar Steinway just sitting here for the hell of it?" 

"No? Yes? I don't know how rich people work, Glimmer!" Adora shook her head. "You just...you never told me you could actually _play."_ It wasn't confrontational, and she knew Glimmer wouldn't take it that way, but she still felt a pang of guilt at her own hypocrisy. Glimmer didn't disclose her secret talent, Adora until recently lied about her entire life story. Couldn't even call it pot and kettle. 

"Yeah, I…" Glimmer looked a little bashful all of a sudden. "My mom gave me lessons when I was younger, back when she was convinced I was some kinda prodigy child, or she thought she mould me into one, god knows at this point. I'm...a little out of practice now, as you could _probably_ hear." 

"Did you fucking _hear_ yourself, Glimmer? That was _beautiful."_ _Now_ she was being a little confrontational, but the rare f-bomb made Glimmer giggle, the blush creeping back. "Is there, uh...any reason you decided to pick it up again at midnight, though?" 

"What is this, an interrogation?" She huffed, but her smile faltered. "I don't really know, to be honest. I knew I wasn't gonna be able to sleep, and I was just feeling a little...weird and nostalgic, you know?" She looked down at her fingers, splaying them across the keys. Adora just wordlessly nodded at her to continue. "That song was one of my dad's favourites, at least according to my mom when she was teaching me it. I wasn't...really...thinking, I didn't think I'd even be able to remember any songs, but I just put fingers to keys and...there it was." 

It was then that Adora realised why the tune sounded vaguely familiar: she had heard a vocal version in Taiwan. She remembered Casta pointing out the song, a soft songbird voice over a sweet, sliding melody; saying its title in English, then leaning across the cafe table to murmur to Glimmer in what was one of the very few times they spoke in Mandarin in front of Bow and Adora. A brief exchange for Fu ears only. She also remembered the unpleasant tightness in her chest that remained for most of the afternoon, not from the secrecy, the exclusion, but that they shared that kind of bond to begin with. 

At least she didn't feel that now. She just felt bad for Glimmer. 

Thoughtlessly, with embarrassment immediately following, she remarked, "oh, that moon one?" 

_"Yuèliang Dàibiǎo Wǒ de Xī."_ Glimmer rolled her eyes, but at least Adora saw a hint of that smile again. "Arguably the most beloved Chinese love song of all time, otherwise known as _that moon one."_

"Yeah, you _know_ I'm gonna butcher that." Adora huffed through her nose, rubbing Glimmer's shoulder coaxingly.

"Oh, come on, your Mandarin isn't _that_ bad," Glimmer lied. "Yeah, I...think I realised why I've been so _weird_ about my mom possibly, _probably,_ seeing someone, and it's not just that she didn't tell me. It...I _know_ it sounds really dumb, but if my mom actually gets in another serious relationship— if she actually gets _married,_ and I end up with a new step-dad or...step- _mom—_ it just feels like that's _it,_ you know? Maybe a part of me doesn't _want_ my mom to move on. Maybe _I_ don't want to move on. It's like _I'm_ the only one who's keeping him alive, and like, if _I_ accept he's never coming back…"

The night Adora heard that song had been the first time Glimmer really opened up about her dad. She was frustrated that whenever he was mentioned, even by his own wife and his sister, he was always spoken about in the past-tense, as if they had detachedly accepted that he was already dead. Then she said a part of her wished he _was_ dead. 

She'd sounded shocked at her own words, but Adora understood where she was coming from. At least death was final. At least with death, you weren't left waiting, wondering. Later on she lay in bed and for the first time in years, she thought about her own parents, whether _they_ were still out there, but she still couldn't conceptualise them. Couldn't bring herself to care. 

For lack of anything helpful to say, she placed her hand over Glimmer's. Glimmer's skin was soft where Adora's was more calloused, violet bruises blooming across her pale knuckles. Exhaling, Glimmer rested her head on her shoulder. "What happened to your hand?" she murmured.

"Punching bag," Adora answered simply.

"Piano, punching bag." Glimmer sniffed. "Two types of stressed out, I guess."

Adora shrugged with her other shoulder. "If it helps, it helps."

"Did it?" 

"Not really." Adora sighed. "Maybe I should have pretended it was my deadlines. Or Catra's face."

"Yeesh, what _happened_ between you two?" 

"Huh?" 

"Like, when you met up?" 

"Oh." Adora shifted. "Ugh. It was just…it was...awkward, then...explosive. I don't really wanna...there's...a lot of context, but I thought, you know, she's had a year and a half to work through...whatever, maybe _now_ we could _finally_ fix things, but it was like she'd just let it all fester, _waiting_ for the day to throw it all back in my face." Her fist clenched, but unfurled as Glimmer took her hand again. "Everything we had, everything we _went through,_ Glimmer, does none of that _matter_ to her? I don't even understand what I _did."_

"I'd say maybe she just needs more time, but…" Glimmer tapered off. "Do you want me to kick her ass?" 

"Glimmer." Adora swallowed. "No offence, but—" 

"Yeah, yeah, she'd make mincemeat of me." Her eyes flickered to Adora's, a smirk teasing the corners of her lips. "Maybe you could teach me some moves. On the punching bag, I mean." She flexed her free arm. "I'll roll up at that McDonald's with you so shredded she'll be _begging_ for your forgiveness."

God, she always knew how to make Adora laugh. "Okay, firstly, it's gonna take more than the punching bag if you wanna get...like, _Scorpia_ -shredded." Glimmer had been too busy trying to sort her payment to really see Scorpia in the drive-thru, but she'd found her Facebook when she, Bow and Adora were trying to figure out what to do about Perfuma, and her response had been a _very_ resounding inhale. 

"How about I aim for _you_ -shredded, then?" Glimmer papped Adora's arm. "Take me to the gym with you next time you go and show me what _you_ do." She paused. "...Uh, I didn't wanna like, _explicitly_ bring it up earlier, but do you really think Catra didn't pass on Perfuma's number?" 

Adora was the one to roll her eyes now, much less light-heartedly. "Oh, I _know_ she didn't pass on Perfuma's number."

"Oh god, I _really_ don't want to see Perfuma heartbroken." Glimmer pursed her lips in thought. "I mean, she goes to the nursing school, doesn't she? Maybe they'll see each other at the karaoke thing. Kinda weird I've never seen her at any of the society meetings, but..." She looked at Adora again. _"You're_ going, aren't you?"

Adora suppressed a groan. "Do I have a choice?" 

"Nope." Glimmer settled her head back on Adora's shoulder. "In fact, I'm _pretty_ sure Mermista's prepared to drag you there at gunpoint." 

"Yeah." Adora sighed. "That sounds about right." 

"What're you gonna sing?" 

Her cheeks flared as she drew away. "Hey, you said I had to go, not that I had to _sing!"_

"It's not a talent show, Adora, no one's gonna care how you sound," Glimmer countered, "my _dad_ couldn't sing for shit, which _believe me_ runs in the family. Didn't stop my mom from falling in love with him at a karaoke night." 

"Wait, seriously _?"_ Colour Adora genuinely surprised; she hadn't expected Angella to be the type to be caught at a karaoke night even if _she_ was dragged there by gunpoint. 

"Yup. She told me one of the like, three times she's actually talked about my dad in more than a passing mention. He pulled her into a karaoke bar on the way back from their fifth date, I think, and his enthusiasm was so contagious she just let him. And he got on the stage and sang…" Glimmer exhaled, bracing herself. _"Uptown Girl."_

Adora tried not to laugh. "Oh my _god."_

"Yup. And obviously the whole time he's gesturing to my mom so the entire _bar_ would know who the lucky lady was." Glimmer snorted. "It kinda became their song after, probably even more than 'that moon one.' She said even after I was born he'd still reference it, like holding his hand out to her and singing _she's lookin' so fi-iii-ine_ when she was all dolled up or even like, in her nightgown."

Now Adora was laughing. "Okay, that's kind of adorable." 

"Yeah." A wistful sigh. "Where am I gonna find a guy to gas _me_ up like that, Adora?" 

"I mean, it sounds pretty Sea Hawkish." Adora mulled on it. "Maybe Bow." 

"Yeah, _definitely_ Bow," Glimmer's tone soured, "but I think he likes someone else, so." A shrug. "Whatever."

"Huh?" Adora blinked. "What makes you think that?

"Cos he literally said so earlier." 

"Did he hint at who it was?" She was really struggling to think of who else it could _be._ "Is it Sea Hawk?" 

"Nah, he said she." Glimmer closed the fallboard over the piano keys so she could rest her elbows on it, her chin in her hands. "He said he really wants to ask her out but he doesn't know if she feels the same way, so he keeps trying to drop hints when they're alone together to see how she reacts, but they just go right over her head. Then he just _looked_ at me for ages 'til I got uncomfortable and changed the subject."

_Wow._

"Wow."

"Right?" Glimmer exclaimed. "You know what? I bet it's Entrapta. They're both giant nerds and you _know_ how oblivious _she_ can be."

"Yeah, _Entrapta's_ really oblivious." 

"Well, like I said, _whatever._ It's his life, right? I hope the two nerds are very happy together in all their... _nerdness."_ She sounded more like she wanted them dead. "Just promise me _you_ won't ditch me the second some girl winks at you across the bar on Saturday, okay?"

"Okay, first of all, Bow is _not_ going to ditch you," Adora said with more conviction than she was usually confident with. "Secondly, you know _I'm_ so oblivious that if a girl _did_ wink at me I'd probably just think she has something in her eye." 

"Yeah, I'll say." Glimmer glanced to her with a glint in her eye. "You know _I_ actually had a little crush on you when we first met?" 

"Wait—" Glimmer dropped the bombshell so nonchalantly that when it finally hit Adora she almost fell off the stool. "You— you _what?!"_

"Oh my god, you _are_ oblivious." Glimmer laughed. "I think we've established I'm a certified bi disaster, Adora, and come on, have you _seen_ yourself?" 

"Well...yeah?" She wasn't sure what Glimmer was getting at.

Glimmer didn't explain, patting her back instead. "I guess I should have said something at the time. I mean, I could smell the sapphic on you from a mile off, especially when I saw the way you looked at Coach Huntara." _Oh god, was it that obvious?_ "I just thought you were still overcoming your homophobic Bible-bashing parents, I didn't really know how to approach it." 

"My…?" She remembered the backstory. "Right. Yeah. I don't think I actually _said_ my fake parents were homophobic, but I guess you kind of…" 

"Wait, so was...what's her name…" 

"Beatrix? No, no." She came out with a hasty answer before she could contemplate it herself. "Catra was gay, and I think that was the _least_ of Beatrix's worries with her. Kyle and Rogelio actually ended up dating each other. Still are, as far as I know. She hated men, so she probably would have been relieved if I'd expressed it to her, if anything." Her tongue tasted black. "She was always my excuse when a guy came onto me or asked me out. I said I'd _totally_ love to but my super religious foster mother would crucify him. Which...I mean, she would have anyway, I don't know why I had to lie about it." She groaned as she remembered an instance her brain was never going to let her forget. "Oh my god, I once panicked and told this one guy she was a _Mormon."_

"Are they the ones that don't have Christmas?" 

"No idea. But I think those like, door-to-door religions have her house blacklisted. She was... _not_ a godly woman, let's just say. Like, if you threw holy water at her she probably would've melted like that witch in _The Wizard of Oz._ Catra lost her _shit_ when I told her." Glimmer giggled, and Adora almost mustered a laugh too, but her chest felt too heavy. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, the chandelier twinkling in the dim lamplight. She often feared it would come crashing down, ruining everything, and it would be her fault, somehow. "God. I wish she would get out of there," she muttered, more to herself than to Glimmer.

She was only reminded of Glimmer's presence when she felt her hand on her shoulder. "That bad, huh?"

"I don't know why you keep _assuming_ that, Glimmer." She pulled herself away, though Glimmer had already withdrawn her hand in surprise. "She did the best she could, okay? I'm _here_ because of her. You've _heard_ all the horrible stories, who _knows_ what would have happened to me if she hadn't been the one to take me in." 

Glimmer shifted uncomfortably next to her. "Look, I'm sorry, it's just the way you act sometimes—" Adora's eyes flashed to her and she seemed to relent, but the feeling in her own chest boiled down just as fast, leaving only guilt to simmer. 

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I'm so...ugh." She leaned forward, rubbing her temples. "I'm just really worried about Catra still, and I _shouldn't_ be. She's seriously lucky Beatrix is even _letting_ her stay with her since she's aged out of the system. I think Catra was holding out for us to get a place together, that's what kept her going all those years, it kept me going too, but it's not like she isn't _completely_ capable of moving out on her own, she can still get help from the state." Anger rose up again. "Actually, you know what, it doesn't even surprise me. She never did _anything_ to improve herself or her situation. It's like she _wants_ to be miserable."

"Yeah, from what you've told me, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you're better off without her." Then she saw Adora's expression fall. "Sorry." 

"I mean, _maybe,_ but I…" She fidgeted with her shirt, biting her lip. "Like, I wasn't just friends with her because we lived together. We used to have talks like this, you know. We'd just sit there for hours, talking about everything and nothing. I'd basically be falling asleep at my desk at school the next day, but then I'd look over at her and she'd give me that little knowing grin and any regret just..." A thought occurred to her as she trailed off. She looked at the clock on the wall. "Uh, speaking of, don't you have an 8AM tomorrow?" 

"Sorry," Glimmer said sheepishly, "again. Sorry. She was really important to you, I get that. I know I'd be devastated if Bow turned against me like that." She squeezed Adora's shoulders. "No, that's on Thursday."

"Tomorrow's Thursday." Adora thought about it. "Well, today, technically." 

Glimmer then thought about it. She checked her phone to confirm. And she groaned, dramatically, dropping her head back. "Oh my _god_. I can't even skip again, can I?" 

Adora shrugged, grimacing. "Yeah, you skipped the last two, so probably not." 

_"Ughhh._ " Glimmer dragged her hands down her face. "How the hell did I do this every _day_ in high school?"

"Maybe because it was compulsory?" Adora pondered. "There's a lot more freedom in college, but it's just made me realise I do _better_ when I'm getting _told_ what to do."

"Oh my god, _same!"_ Glimmer sounded relieved, and the same sentiment unravelled what was left of the knot in Adora's stomach. "I know complain about my mom being overbearing but I kinda _need_ a kick up the ass sometimes. Or just like...some guidance." 

Adora nodded briskly. "I remember teachers kept warning us that we'd have to be more self-sufficient in college. I guess I could've prepared more, but it was even more of a jump than I thought. I feel like I just plunged myself straight in the deep end, and I'm still here thrashing around with nowhere to go." She managed a small laugh then, devoid of humour. "And it's funny, 'cause if I didn't go to college, I might actually be doing _better_ right now. I could've stayed at McDonald's or got some other job where every day's the same and there's clearly laid out rules and procedures and I actually _know_ what I'm doing. I'd still have Catra. Beatrix. My friends. I don't know _why_ I thought I was cut out for this."

"Hey, hey." Glimmer took her shoulders. "You wouldn't have _us_ then. Look, trust me, not even _Bow_ knows what the hell he's doing a lot of the time." She pulled Adora into a hug that she gratefully returned, tears prickling in her eyes. "No one's got it figured out at twenty, Adora, much less _nineteen._ " Adora managed an affirming _mhm._ "We've all just gotta keep each other afloat til we learn how to swim."

"Thank you," Adora said into her shoulder, "sorry. I know you're probably getting tired of reassuring me over and over. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm like this." 

"I'd rather say the same thing a million times til you get the message than have you lying there alone at night doubting yourself." She stroked her hair soothingly. "I know you'd do the same for me. That's what best friends are for, right?" 

Adora just tightened the embrace, repeating an even quieter, "thank you." 

"We're gonna figure this out," Glimmer said, "and I'm sure you can figure things out with Catra too. If you want to." 

"I don't know." Adora shook her head. "I don't know anymore." She sniffed, then added more positively, "But I do know Bow's _not_ gonna ditch you, Glimmer." 

"I know, I know, I was just being dumb." She drew back, her fingers combing through to the ends of Adora's hair. "You should wear your hair like this on Saturday. It looks nice." 

Adora grinned bashfully. "You think?" 

"Well, it could be your night, Adora. My mom fell in love with my dad at karaoke. Perfuma may well have met the love of her life at McDonald's. I'll be damned if you're not looking your best when the girl of your dreams sweeps you across the dancefloor." 

Adora, already planning how she was going to meddle in Glimmer's romantic affairs, only smiled to herself. She was about to say something slyly (she hoped) alluding to that when her stomach growled. "Oh, yeah, I was meant to get food." 

Glimmer's brows knitted in concern, one of those rare moments that her mom shone through. "Didn't you have dinner?" 

"Nope." 

"Right." Glimmer stood up, now set on a more immediately pressing mission. "Well, no use trying to get enough sleep now. Want me to drive us somewhere?" 

"Sure." Adora stood up in turn. If there was anything as cathartic as a late night talk, it was a late night drive. "Just so long as it's not McDonald's." 

* * *

"Why do you always make excuses for her, Adora?" Catra had her back to her as she clambered onto the counter, jabbing her pin into the padlock and fruitlessly wiggling it about. "It's not even like she's our actual _mom."_

"She's the closest we have," Adora countered, trying to keep her voice from faltering. She really hated how every attempt to talk sense into Catra had to devolve into an argument. "And that's besides the point." 

"She's literally _starving_ us." Catra muttered some indistinct curse under her breath as the lock failed to budge. "And you're _still_ taking her side?" 

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Adora scoffed. "Maybe if you'd stop being so _contrarian_ she wouldn't send us all to bed without dinner. Maybe if you'd stop stealing food she wouldn't lock the cupboards. I'm not making excuses, I'm just _saying."_

"You're _literally— argh!"_ She hit the padlock then cursed again, cradling her hand. "Who the fuck says _contrarian?_ Do you really think any of this is _normal,_ Adora? _Oooh,_ a teenager talked back, a teenager wants a midnight snack, call the fucking cops. It's not like she can't afford it, have you _seen_ how much she gets paid to deal with us? It's like four hundred a head!"

"It's still stealing." She could tell even from behind Catra was rolling her eyes. She swallowed, her throat tight. "Just get _down,_ Catra, you're going to get us all in trouble. _Again."_

"You know," said Kyle from the doorway, "I'm gonna have to side with Catra on this one." 

"Shut up, Kyle, no one asked you." There was a promising click, and Catra let out a victorious whoop as the padlock clattered onto the counter. "Yes! We've got _cereal,_ folks!" 

At that, Lonnie and Rogelio both wrestled each other through the doorway, barging past Kyle who quickly scampered in after them. Catra, after sparing a second to stick her tongue out at Adora, gathered several boxes in her arms and dropped them onto the table with all the devilish triumphancy of a warrior presenting the enemy's severed head. "Tonight," she announced, "we feast." 

"Adora's kind of right, you know," said Lonnie, already digging her hand into a box of storebrand frosted flakes as Rogelio was dishing out bowls, "about getting us all in trouble. I'm just too hungry to care." 

"Do we have milk?" Kyle asked through a mouthful of cereal bar. 

"Working on it," said Catra, ignoring Lonnie as she examined the combination lock on the fridge. "Uh, anyone know Tessaro's birthday?" (There was a collective murmuring and shaking of heads.) "Her favourite number? The McDonald's store number? Anything?"

She caved to hunger after a few attempts, joining everyone else in settling for dry cereal. Everyone, that was, except Adora, who edged away until her back was against the wall. She wasn't hungry. She felt sick. 

"Adora?" Catra looked at her quizzically, her previous anger obviously faded already. "Hey, c'mon, you're looking at the food like it's gonna bite you." 

"Come eat, dummy," said Lonnie. 

"Frosted flakes actually taste better dry," said Kyle. Rogelio nodded sagely. 

A protest rose and died on her tongue. She couldn't justify telling her friends not to eat, but they were still defying a punishment, and if Beatrix was in half as bad a mood when she came home tomorrow— 

"I think I'm gonna go back to bed," she relented flatly, and she retreated to her room with her heart in her throat. 

Lights off and curtains closed, she curled up under the scratchy comforter, dread and guilt and guilt and guilt and guilt a noxious swirl that kept her mind reeling and made sleep impossible. She was wide awake when she heard the others come upstairs, the hallway light flicking off as they went to their own rooms, and she was wide awake when a little while later, her door slowly creaked open. 

Quiet footsteps padded across the carpet. She considered pretending to be asleep as the mattress dipped behind her, but she knew it was pointless. It was only when the comforter was drawn up that she whispered, "you're not supposed to be here." 

"Relax," Catra whispered back, "she won't even be back tonight."

Adora said nothing else as Catra got comfortable, a difficult feat when there were two nearly-grown girls in a bed barely big enough for one, and Adora wouldn't unfurl from her ball. "Aren't we getting a little old for this?" she finally asked. 

"If you want me to go," said Catra, lacking the hurt Adora would have expected, "just say the word." 

Maybe she didn't sound hurt because she already knew the answer. Adora sighed, shifting position to make more room, reaching behind to find Catra's hand in the dark. "No," she whispered, "no. Don't go."

"Wasn't planning to." 

There was a grin in Catra's voice, but it didn't have its usual contagious effect on Adora, who only closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything." Adora withdrew her hand, glad Catra couldn't see her face, though she could no doubt hear the tremble in _her_ voice. "Defending Beatrix. Not defending you when she was yelling at you earlier—" 

"Shhh." Catra found her hand again, giving it a squeeze. "It's whatever. I get it. You were just being...

_you."_

Adora wasn't sure what to say to that. 

"Look," Catra added, "it's gonna be okay, anyway. We tidied up and locked the cupboard again. I don't think she's gonna count the cereal granules or whatever, she's not _that_ anal."

"She's gonna know, Catra. You know she's gonna know."

"Then _I'll_ take the fall for it. I always do."

"That's the _thing,_ Catra." Adora's voice rose slightly, wavering despite herself. "I don't _want_ you to get into trouble." 

Catra guffawed. "Oh, come on, you think I'm still scared of that miserable old witch?" 

They both knew the answer to that. 

As natural as her next breath, Catra slid her fingers through Adora's, her arm settling over her waist, her body relaxing against hers. "We're gonna get out of here." Her voice was soft, adorably sleepy as she nuzzled Adora's hair. "We'll get our own place. Just you and me."

The assurance managed to bring a small smile to Adora's lips, a feat she would have thought impossible just seconds ago. Catra always managed to cling onto hope, always managed to look to the light at the end of the tunnel. It was hard not to get caught up in it, just thinking about the sparkle in her eye, the way she always became so bright and animated when their conversations turned to their future together. They fantasised more than they planned, because neither of them really knew the practicalities, the feasibilities, but they knew nothing really bad could happen to them as long as they had each other.

"I know." She wanted to turn round to look her in the face, card her fingers through her hair to lull her to sleep, but they were both so comfortable as they were. "I know. Goodnight, Catra." 

Catra was already asleep. 

Briefly, Adora wondered how much Catra had actually managed to sleep the past few nights, if she had had any more luck than she did; how significant it was that she managed to fall asleep so easily now that they were together again. Catra still sought solace with her, and she found it, even after she had let her down. She knew Catra hid a lot of things, even from her. But Catra wasn't the only one.

She herself lay awake a little while longer, Catra's steady heartbeat calming her own, her resonating warmth melting the remaining tension in her bones. The events of earlier simmered at bay, no doubt to resurface, but not tonight. Tonight, her anxiety was quelled, but in its wake was a stirring far more vague, a nameless ache that was coming to define quiet moments like these. Too close. Impossibly close. Not close _enough._

* * *

The Jehovah's Witnesses must have heard the good news that Tessaro wasn't around, as a well-dressed couple and their robotically adorable child turned up on her doorstep for what must have been the first time in years. It was mostly through half-asleep bewilderment that Catra accepted a Watchtower leaflet she had absolutely zero intentions of reading, but she also had to kind of commend the audacity. 

Eight hours later, at the far more godly hour of 5PM, Rogelio was cutting up that leaflet to make a roach. 

"Shouldn't we have smoked _before_ the movie?" Kyle, who no one had asked, pointed out. 

"Kyle," Lonnie sighed, "I don't even think psychedelics would've made that shit any weirder."

"I feel like I _was_ on psychedelics," Catra muttered. 

"I know," said Kyle, "but it might've made it more bearable." 

"Hey." Lonnie turned her attention to Scorpia, who was starfished forlornly across the floor, lightly nudging her with her foot. "You good?" 

"I'm processing," Scorpia answered glumly.

Catra looked back to the TV screen, where the ending credits for Cats rolled. Pushing Lonnie aside, she fished the remote from between the couch cushions and turned the abomination off, like she probably should have an hour and fifty minutes ago. The silence that followed was almost more uncomfortable. 

Kyle was the first to break it. "It's weird, isn't it? Having the old gang back here." 

"Plus Scorpia," said Lonnie. 

"Okay, plus Scorpia." 

"Huh?" came Scorpia from the floor. 

"Minus Adora," said Lonnie.

"Yeah, minus Adora," said Kyle. "So _most_ of the old gang _plus_ one, yeesh."

Catra pursed her lips, folding her arms over her knees. It was weird alright. Not fun. Not even familiar, nostalgic. Just _weird._

"We're not a _gang,"_ she said to Kyle, "you get that, right?" 

"I mean…" Kyle's brow furrowed. "We're not involved in...criminal activity, I...don't think, if that's what you mean." 

Catra just rolled her eyes. Lonnie looked at her skeptically, but she wasn't going to elaborate. 

"Movie bummed you out too, huh?" Scorpia sat up, leaning on the couch to look up at her, eyes so warm and earnest it made her skin crawl.

"Yeah," said Catra, "the movie."

Scorpia patted her knee. It was probably supposed to be comforting. "Hey, now, it wasn't all bad. I liked a couple of the songs. Not the _singing,_ but—" She grinned, clicking her fingers. "Hey! I bet we could kill _Mr. Mistoffolees_ on Saturday." Her bright laugh drowned out Catra's shushing, but it was too late anyway. 

"Woah, woah, _woah,"_ Lonnie cut in, "what're you guys doing on Saturday?" 

"Just some dumb karaoke thing." Catra shrugged, trying to play it down as much as possible. "You wouldn't be interested."

"Hell _yeah_ I'm interested!" Lonnie shot up from her slumped position, obviously appalled by the assertion otherwise. "Where and when?" 

"Enchanted Grotto, 7PM," said Scorpia, beaming at her own treachery, "but it's a college thing, I dunno if you can get in without an ID." 

"That's fine, Rogelio can get me in." Lonnie poked his back. "Right?" 

Catra almost choked on her own breath, eyes flashing to Rogelio in demanding alarm. 

"They do evening classes," Rogelio cooly explained, "I'm learning ASL." He even paused grinding to sign his words as he said them.

"Jesus fucking _Christ."_ Catra flopped back. "Does no one tell me anything anymore?" 

Rogelio shrugged. "You never asked." 

"Hey, if you're Rogelio's plus-one, what about me?" Kyle piped up, probably not meaning for his voice to sound as whiny as it did. 

"Relax, we'll smuggle you in," said Lonnie, "you're basically invisible anyway."

"Oh, _great!"_ Catra exploded. "So _Kyle's_ coming?"

"Hey—" Kyle began.

"Is this a whole McCrew event now?" She threw her hands up. "Let's see if fucking _Octavia_ wants to go. Or the new girl who broke the tempering rack yesterday. Hell, might as well post it in the McGroup Chat so we can _all_ crash the place!" Kyle began unlocking his phone, and Catra gave him a light kick that made him flinch and drop it. "I'm _joking,_ Kyle."

"Okay, you have _got_ to chill," said Lonnie, in a tone that has the precise opposite effect. She took Scorpia's shoulder, who was looking at the floor guiltily. "We're going as a _friend group,_ okay? When's the last time we've all done something together that wasn't just watching TV?" 

Catra was unreasonably seething. She let out a breath, trying to calm herself. Push it all down. Down, down, down. It was all dumb anyway. "Okay, fine," she relented finally. She tapped Scorpia's shoulder, trying to get her to look at her again. "But we're _not_ singing _Mr. Mistoffolees_ , Scorpia. If anything I'm the villain guy, anyway."

"Nah, if anyone's Macavity it's probably Prime," said Kyle, who, once again, was not asked, "we already know he breaks every human law when it comes to food hygiene and employee welfare."

"Yeah, no, if you're Macavity that'd make me Taylor Swift cat," Scorpia said to Catra, shivering.

"No, Taylor Swift cat's gotta be Adora, said Lonnie, "bland and white and annoying."

That actually got a snort from Catra. 

"Well, Bombalurina is kinda Macavity's hype-woman, so that's probably gonna be…" Kyle stroked his chin. "Tessaro…?" 

Lonnie was the one to snort now. "Okay, gotta admit, I _never_ thought I'd hear Beatrix Tessaro compared to Taylor Swift."

"Ha _ha,"_ said Catra flatly.

"Prime wouldn't be interested in Tessaro," said Rogelio, who'd probably spoken more in this single conversation than he had in the past week, "she's too assertive. Too close to his age. A nineteen-year-old people-pleaser with no backbone is way more his type."

"Damn, Rogelio, right for the throat." Lonnie clicked her tongue. "Okay, Cats expert Kyle, what cat am I?" 

"I'll have to get back to you on that," said Kyle, "Scorpia I guess can be Rum Tug Tugger. He's basically Mr. Mistoffolees' hype-man in the original." 

Scorpia grinned at Catra, who just rolled her eyes back inside her skull. "I seriously cannot _believe_ we're having this conversation." 

Lonnie scoffed. "Oh, lighten up, Catra. You started it." 

Catra glowered at her, fire bubbling up her throat.

"I'm Shimbleshanks," said Kyle, "he's my favourite." 

"Who was the Rebel Wilson cat?" Lonnie asked, ignoring Catra now. "The one that peeled her own skin off?"

The ridiculous conversation rolled on without Catra, who only withdrew deeper and deeper into herself. She could sense the mutual discomfort behind the laughter. She could sense they only piled in here in the first place because they knew she was alone and felt sorry for her. Did they not know she _liked_ to be alone? Did they think she was _worried_ about Tessaro? Not that anyone would _mention_ her outside of the occasional joke. The shadow of her memory loomed, and it always would in this place, however much these idiots tried to ignore it.

Things weren't the same as they used to be, yet they were exactly the same as they used to be. 

Scorpia was the first to notice her getting up. "Where are you going?" 

_It's always going to be like this._

"Getting a drink," Catra grumbled.

_Why prolong the inevitable?_

"Oh!" Kyle sat up from where he was resting against Rogelio. "Can you get me—"

Catra shut the door behind her. 

She could still hear them. 

This place was lonelier with people than it was without.

She wished she could detach. She wished she could disappear. 

* * *

The envelope had _CONGRATULATIONS_ printed across in bold, obnoxious letters, so Catra already had a hunch of what it was about. 

As she sat alone at the kitchen table, the clock on the wall seemed to purposefully drag out the minutes. She had _thought_ she and Adora were going to be able to hang out more now that SATs were out of the way, but between football season and her other extracurriculars Adora still barely seemed to be around, and she was frazzled with exhaustion and stress whenever she was. She was even getting most of her shifts covered, so they barely saw each other at work either.

All for this. This piece of paper that would lead to another piece of paper that would lead her places Catra couldn't follow. 

As it stood now, Adora wouldn't be home for another two hours. 

Catra was just beginning to contemplate the ethics of opening the fucking thing herself and just gluing it shut before Adora got back when it was suddenly snatched out of her hand, torn open before she even had time to react. 

"Ah," said Tessaro, "I might have guessed this wasn't for you." 

"You know it's illegal to open other people's mail, right?" Catra hypocritically pointed out. She waited as Tessaro read, let the suspense build and build until she could hold herself back no longer. "Is it…?" 

"I wasn't aware she had applied for a full-ride scholarship too," Tessaro remarked in lieu of a straight answer, "were you?"

Catra said nothing.

"Tuition, room _and_ board," Tessaro continued, almost as though she was boasting, "provided she maintains her academic and sports performance. Between this and fee exemptions, our Adora can live on campus without owing a cent."

 _"Great."_ It was like a pound of lead had dropped to the pit of Catra's stomach. Adora had mentioned this scholarship, but only for the tuition, she assured she still wanted to live together, she didn't want to live on campus. She was applying for other grants. They'd make it work. Somehow. 

She hadn't sounded so certain, but maybe that was the stress.

And now that it was official, there on fancy thick paper that Tessaro may as well have been smothering her with, Catra wasn't so sure either. 

Adora was going to college. Adora was moving up in the world. 

Catra had a McShift at 8AM tomorrow.

She couldn't think.

"She was accepted into college too, but I suppose even you surmised that much." Tessaro flipped overleaf, continuing to skim. "A wonderful opportunity, isn't it? I always knew there was something special about that girl. It was always her who was going to rise up from these dregs. Open doors, new connections, new _friends…"_

She was smiling, Catra could hear it in her voice, but it obviously wasn't a smile that matched the fondness of her words. Catra kept her shoulders squared, her jaw tensed, refusing to give her the reaction she was clearly looking for. 

"Well." Giving up, or perhaps deciding she had better things to do, Tessaro tossed the letter flippantly on the table. "Give her my congratulations when she returns." She slid the letter across to Catra as she passed, and ran those same fingers through her hair in that way that made Catra want to pull it from its roots. "I _do_ hope you girls manage to stay in touch."

* * *

The door opened. Catra refused to lift her head from the table. 

"Hey," came Scorpia's voice, "Rogelio's wondering if you have a working lighter. Also, are you okay?" 

Tessaro would have kill him for smoking that shit indoors. But Tessaro wasn't here.

Her answer came out thick and muffled: "I don't want to be here." 

"Huh?" She felt Scorpia coming behind her, and her hands resting on her shoulders. 

She sat up and swatted her away. "I don't want _you_ to be here." Her voice was cracking, and she despised herself for it. _"Them_. _Any_ of you." 

Scorpia drew back; Catra could imagine the hurt on her face without having to turn round. "I—" 

"Just _go,"_ Catra said through her teeth.

"Hey." Scorpia sounded like she was struggling to keep her own voice steady. "Catra, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Catra swung around, very aware of the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes, _very_ past the point of caring as they escaped down her cheeks. "I said _go!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Glimmer was playing, The Moon Represents My Heart, is a Taiwanese love song made famous by Teresa Teng; it does sound very pretty on piano 
> 
> Basically everything here is gonna be relevant later so I hope you're all taking McNotes
> 
> See you soon! Hopefully. Thank you to everyone's who's still around after my nightmare hiatuses haha


	10. McPep-Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this year sure keeps happening, doesn't it? 
> 
> I am McAlive and I am so SO sorry this took so long. I want to say my inspiration is back since I have the next couple chapters entirely planned out but I don't want to make any promises. 
> 
> Maybe one day they'll actually make it to the bloody karaoke night...
> 
> (In the meantime, you can follow me at @daoimean on twitter if you want, though I'm not very active there either)
> 
> **Warnings:** Vaguely implied/referenced past child abuse; gaslighting; homophobic bullying; internalised lesbophobia

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and this customer had just ordered a cheeseburger without cheese.

Catra needed a moment. The words tumbled over and over in her head like shoes in a washing machine. Her head pounded. 

_"Hello?!"_

_DT times. Focus._

She blinked. The monitor wavered into focus, but she couldn't make sense of it. "So...you want a hamburger?" _Why did I say that?_

"No, a I want a _cheeseburger_ without cheese. You got that? You need me to break it down more for you?"

"Right." Catra closed her eyes. "So a _ham_ burger."

"Jesus _Christ—_ are you fucking _deaf?_ I don't want _ham_ in it, I want a _cheeseburger_ without _cheese."_ The customer sounded out the words slowly, as if he was talking to a total imbecile. "See, this is why y'all work at McDonald's. Every _fuckin'_ time—"

"That's what a hamburger is, sir." She was beyond questioning why she was bothering to argue about this; her soul had long since left her body. "If I put through a cheeseburger no cheese, you're paying an extra twenty cents for the same thing."

The customer sighed so loudly she could have heard without the headset. "Look, I don't have _time_ for this shit, alright? I gotta get back to my _real_ job. You got anyone back there with a _brain_ who can take my order? Where the fuck's your manager?"

Catra removed her headset to sigh, deep and exhausted. This was going to be a long day. 

Time worked strangely in McDonald's, and not just for this customer. A busy shift could drag like a snail towing a truck. People who started after her could get their breaks before her. Of course, as she'd predicted from the second she clocked in, she never did end up getting a break. That was the thing about window one: as long as DT times looked good and customers weren't complaining, management tended to willingly forget she existed. It was only fifteen minutes after her shift was scheduled to end that Cobalt got round to switching the floats. Octavia, who'd _just_ been promoted to floor manager for _who_ knew what reason, counted up her float by hand once, twice, _three_ times, to confirm that it was, indeed, a dollar-fifty down; Catra ended fishing a dollar out of her own wallet rather than have to fill out another disciplinary. She made a point of waiting until after the further twenty minute ordeal was over to clock out, even though there wasn't much of a point. Cobalt would adjust the clocks later anyway. He'd probably take off the break too. 

In the break room, her phone showed a text from Scorpia, which she quickly swiped away without reading. There was another from Hordak demanding, for the fifth time this week, whether Tessaro had come home yet. The best part was she hadn't even had his number beforehand, she was that _inconsequential_ to him. 

She unlocked it with a sigh. She'd rather answer him now than have him call her.

 _trust me,_ she replied, _as soon as she does you'll be the first to know._

_See to it that you do.,_ Hordak replied.

A knot tightened in her chest. Mindlessly, she scrolled to Tessaro in her contacts and hit call, half hoping she'd answer, half praying she wouldn't. A robotic voice informed her that Tessaro's phone was turned off.

She typed another text: _where the HELL are you?_

Her eyes burned. The letters blurred. 

She deleted it without sending and locked her phone again. 

It had officially been a whole-ass week since anyone had seen Tessaro. No car, no text, no social media (not that she'd been an avid user to begin with)— nothing. She left her close last Friday and disappeared off the fact of the earth. 

One of the first things Hordak had told Catra was not to call the cops, an instruction undercut with a warning. She didn't know his reasoning or why she actually listened to him. Maybe a part of her _wanted_ Tessaro to be gone forever. No more bullshit. House to herself. Alone. Bliss. Just what she wanted. The day Tessaro was found dead would be the day Catra's life would begin.

Releasing a wobbly exhale, she unclenched her hands and focused again on her phone. It lit up with Scorpia's name, a much longer text that she ended up having to open to read fully: _hi again! you ok? how was work? Sorry I didn't get to see you, I WANTED to plan for tonight and stuff but it was just so BUSY I got overwhelmed and had to go the second they let me haha, my head's still echoing with all that beeping and people YELLING at me_ 🤯 _are you still coming to mine? Both my moms are here but dw I'll try to keep them out of your hair_ 🤣

Panic lurched, sharp and jarring. _Shit._

God. _Fuck._ How had she forgotten about _tonight?_

Did she even still _want_ to—

Ugh, her _head,_ she couldn't _think—_

She unlocked her phone and replied, _i don't have my stuff._

 **Scorpia:** _That's ok! 💕 Are you still at work? I'll come pick you up!_

Catra half-heartedly tried to think of an excuse. She couldn't. _are the others still going?_

 **Scorpia:** _Last I checked they were, Lonnie called out of her close and everything!_ 🙊😅

 **Scorpia:** _We_ _don't HAVE to though!_

 **Scorpia:** _I mean_

 **Scorpia:** _if you're not feeling like_

 **Scorpia:** _people stuff_

 **Scorpia:** _We can just hang out at mine, watch a movie or something_

 **Scorpia:** _just the two of us_

 **Scorpia:** _platonically_

Scorpia had done the open this morning. Her shift finished two hours after Catra's started. She should be napping right now.

After rescuing her phone as Scorpia's barrage nearly vibrated it off the table, Catra started to type: _why are you being so nice to me? i treated you like shit the other d_

She stopped. The gears in her head turned. Slowly. 

Lonnie. Kyle. Rogelio. 

They didn't want her there. 

_God,_ no, of course they didn't. 

It grappled her like two clawed hands, shaking her like a ragdoll, jolting her to her senses. 

The fog cleared. She could _think._

_oh no,_ she replied, _we're going._

Scorpia's reply came a few minutes later: _Great!!_ 😁 _I'll see you in a few! I'm driving rn so I can't text much haha_

 _Fucking_ hell, _Scorpia—_

 **Catra:** _don't text at ALL, scorpia._

 **Scorpia:** _oops!_

 **Scorpia:** _sorry_

Scorpia's car, which miraculously arrived in one piece, was about the best standard a student's McDonald's salary could afford. An old red Chevy that still had a tape deck, where the windows still had to be rolled down manually. The radio didn't work so Scorpia had to play music from her phone to cover up the terrifying rattling of the engine. Not that Catra was judging, as if she had any right to. Just being able to budget for a car, even getting a license in the first place, was more accomplished than she'd ever be; she'd given up on her permit after failing the test the first time around.

"You can choose the music if you want," Scorpia offered brightly as Catra climbed into the passenger seat. 

"I'm good," Catra replied with a shrug. Some utter earworm of a love yourself R&B song was playing; she recalled, with exhaustion, attempting to bellow along to this one at some point despite not knowing the words, surrendering to Adora's contagious laughter about one and a half verses in. Or had it been Scorpia? She couldn't even remember. The memory seemed to belong to a completely different person. 

It really was a beautiful day, weather-wise. Unfortunately that meant everyone in Etheria and their dogs were in their cars headed back from the Silaneas or the park or wherever it was people who didn't work Saturdays went. Obviously all going the same direction they were, because that was just how the world worked. 

Catra's stomach ached. She was starting to regret not getting her break food on the way out. After not eating this morning. Or last night. Had all that extra sleep really been worth it when she didn't feel the least _bit_ rested? 

She ended up watching the fuel gauge, the needle teetering uselessly. It had stopped working ages ago. When Catra pointed it out a while ago, Scorpia had only laughed and said she always just waited for the engine to start stalling.

Right now it felt weirdly metaphoric, and she couldn't understand why. 

"You seem tired, Catra," Scorpia spoke up.

Catra directed her lazy gaze to the rearview mirror. Her eyebags were the size of galaxies. Her hair desperately needed a wash. Her eyes, weird mismatched things that they were, were just...dead. "Yeah," she said flatly.

"Are you doing okay?" Scorpia asked tentatively. "Or like...better?"

A sigh. "I'm _fine,_ Scorpia."

"You kinda ghosted yourself after the other day." Scorpia's fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel. Her nails were shorter. Painted burgundy. "I've been worried. We all have."

The claws again, digging into her stomach. "I said I'm _fine,_ okay?"

"Okay." Scorpia bit her lip, visibly swallowing. "Just...yeah, okay."

And she dropped it. Just like that. No pushing. No _we're here for you_ spiel. Finally, some progress _._ How many times would they have this conversation before Scorpia _fully_ took the hint? How long before she stopped bothering altogether? 

She turned her head back to the window, watching the city transition from shitty downtown to just as shitty suburbia in a clouded silence. 

The car pulled up on the empty driveway of the empty house on the near-empty street. Tessaro's townhouse was a beacon in a ghost town, its outside only marginally less rundown than its neighbours'. Like Etheria's downtown, this neighbourhood had seen better days; most houses in the area had been bought up by elusive investors, only to be foreclosed and forgotten, homelessness crisis be damned. 

Inside, it was tidy. Catra knew her usual spaces— the living room and her bedroom— were predictably cluttered, and she hadn't gotten around to loading the dishwasher, or getting her clothes out the dryer— but the rest was tidier than it had ever been when the others were around. Almost clinically so, like no one actually lived here. Former bedrooms lay empty, just as they'd been left. The so-called 'hole' downstairs was back to being a storage closet.

She removed her shoes in the hallway out of habit. Scorpia followed suit, looking around with a quiet gulp. 

"Is it me," she said, "or is it somehow _spookier_ when Tessaro isn't here?" 

"Can't complain." Catra shrugged. "I have this whole big ass house to myself. Living the fucking dream." 

Food was her first priority. She opened and closed each cupboard and the fridge in turn while Scorpia put on the coffee maker, intuitively figuring that Catra needed the caffeine, but her desperate efforts were in vain. What little of the healthy food hadn't gone bad didn't conjure any actual recipes. She only _now_ remembered that she'd meant to buy milk on the way back from work, since she'd basically been living on cereal. Maybe she really did need Tessaro's stupid little notes, because she was evidently _completely_ fucking incompetent on her own otherwise.

Yup. Good luck doing this forever. 

As of now, Scorpia's brain seemed to pick up her brain's slack. "We could have pasta," she suggested, plonking the three kilo bag on yje counter. Tessaro had bought it like a million years ago then proceeded to subsist on shitty cheap coffee and hatred; Catra's eyes had automatically glossed over it because she always assumed she wasn't allowed to touch Tessaro's food, but what good were Tessaro's arbitrary rules now? "You've got tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic, this _really_ questionable onion…hey, even basil! You want me to whip something up?"

"Sure," said Catra, wishing she could shrink into herself. 

The humiliation only dug in deeper and deeper as she waited perched on the counter _(definitely_ against Tessaro's rules), sipping her black coffee (technically, Tessaro's black coffee) while Scorpia cheerfully milled around the kitchen like a '50s ad housewife. A part of her wanted to snap at her, tell her to get out, she didn't _need_ looking after, but no amount of mental gymnastics could find a rational justification, and no building bitterness could summon the willpower. 

Besides, it was starting to smell _divine,_ and Catra was _so_ hungry.

"I really need to start cooking more," she murmured absently.

"I mean, pasta's pretty easy. It's a good go-to if you're feeling really down or tired or whatever." Scorpia glanced to her with a smile as she took the pan off the hob, draining the pasta. "I could teach you some other recipes if you want too. I mean, I dunno how much you'd like my moms' Russian specialties, but you liked that pierogi Irina made, didn't you?" 

Catra swallowed at the mention. Scorpia's moms were part of the reason she didn't find herself at the Krasnova residence very often. Not because they were cruel or disliked her or anything like that— quite the opposite, actually.

"They were asking about you," Scorpia added. She set two bowls of pasta on the table, placing a plate of grated cheese in the middle, and Catra slipped down from the counter to join her. How civilised; she normally ate on the couch if Tessaro wasn't allowed or in her room if she was. "Svetlana was gonna see if she could get you that free pass to her gym, wasn't she?" 

Catra grunted in response, more focused on shovelling down the pasta. She wished Scorpia didn't _always_ have to talk for the sake of talking. 

Scorpia managed to take the hint again, but only to change the subject. "So, are you gonna sing tonight?"

"No," said Catra, "we've been over this." In the short stretch of silence that followed, she realised she didn’t want that either. "...Are you?" 

"Not by myself." Scorpia glanced away, then down at her food, pushing it around with her fork. Catra saw a flash of Tessaro, hitting Catra round the back of the head with her wooden spoon, snapping at her not to play with her food. "You're, uh— you're sure you wanna go?" 

The intonation made Catra tilt her head. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you sure _you_ want to go?"

"This isn't about me."

_"Scorpia."_

"Okay." Scorpia exhaled. "Don't laugh." Catra was almost a little offended that she thought she would, but on the other hand...yeah, she understood. "Um. When you were in high school, did you ever have the– the popular kids come up to you with that _so-and-so has a crush on you_ spiel?" 

"Uh, no." Catra hadn't exactly been a favourite of the popular kids in high school, but she wasn't really bullied by them either, at least not nearly to the extent that Kyle was. By the time she came out, she'd already pretty much made sure they were too afraid of her to _really_ try any bullshit beyond ostracising her further than they already had. She was amazed Little Ms. Perfect Adora could even stand to be seen around her, looking back on it.

But this wasn't about Catra. 

Crimson High seemed to be even _worse_ than her own West Etheria High in how it treated anyone who didn't fit the mould. Initially, Scorpia had been outcast for having two moms, a _trans_ mom; for being too big, too weird, too much and too little all at once (Scorpia's words, not Catra's). She had a small group of people who 'put up' with her, but when she found the trust and courage to confess to her crush— her _friend,_ her _female_ friend— the bitch had been so superfluously disgusted that she outed her to the entire school, who ripped it up from the carcass of Scorpia's self-esteem like the starved vultures teenagers were. 

She'd told Catra she had tried to hide from her moms what was happening— she knew how upsetting it would be to them after they'd worked so hard to get to this country, fuelled by promises of understanding and acceptance they'd never find back home. 

Recalling this, Catra realised, grimly, that she may well have been the only person Scorpia had told this to. And even then she'd never really gone into the specifics of the bullying, because Catra had never asked. 

Despite how hungry she was, her pasta was going cold by the time Scorpia's revelation really set in. "Wow," she added, "I... _wow_. People really did it?" 

"Yup." Scorpia tried to shrug like it wasn't a big deal, her lips tight _. "Obviously_ it was a ruse, like...I mean, I fell for it the first couple times, 'cause I was dumb and gullible and desperate, and of course they just...fell over themselves laughing, 'cause how could anyone _ever_ like someone like me, how could I be so _dense,_ so _stupid,_ you know, th-the...usual kind of…" 

"That's…" Catra, with her sailor's mouth, lacked the vocabulary to convey the disgust, the pity, (the guilt—) "holy _shit,_ Scorpia."

"Yeah." Scorpia's voice warbled, like it was about to crack. Catra's hand twitched to take hers across the table, offer _some_ kind of comfort, but who the hell was _she_ to provide that? "I mean, it was...a long time ago, I'm— I'm over it, but a part of me now is just…" 

The implication hit Catra before Scorpia could continue; her heart dropped. 

"...You're scared Perfuma's pulling the same thing," she finished quietly. 

Scorpia nodded wordlessly.

"Scorpia," Catra said her name gently, "I don't think…" She couldn't _say_ it, and she hated to even admit it to _herself,_ but credit where credit was due: Adora would _never_ be close friends with someone like that. The stupid marshmallow had _some_ principles. "You're not in high school anymore. Adults don't tend to pull that shit."

"Yeah, I know it's not _exactly_ like that, I mean, Perfuma didn't _seem..."_ Scorpia trailed off, thoughtful. Her brow furrowed. "Wait, _that's_ her name? I don't think I remember her ever _giving_ me—"

_Shit._

"You're the one who told _me,"_ Catra said quickly, "unless we're just making up names for our crushes now." 

"Yeah, it _does_ kinda sound like a made-up name." Scorpia's watery little laugh only made Catra's stomach sink even lower. "Huh. Weird. I dunno how I forgot a name like that." 

Catra shrugged nonchalantly. "It's been a long week."

"Yeah." Scorpia seemed to accept that explanation. "Maybe I'm not as hung up on this girl as I thought I was if I didn't even remember her _name._ Like, we only talked for...five, ten minutes tops, I don't know _why_ I'm still...She was just so...sweet and so _pretty_ , and she, she helped me not feel embarrassed and scared and _stupid_ over the whole...wrecking her and her friends' entire order thing, and when I was next to her, when I looked at her, I just...I felt calm, I felt _safe,_ you know? Like I could get used to this, and you know me, I'm usually _horrible_ with meeting new people. I scare them by coming on too strong, I drive them away by being too standoffish and awkward— you remember when I first met _you,_ don't you?"

Catra cringed, and not just at that memory. "Uh-huh." 

"I think I'm so...not used to people not being nice to me that the second someone _is,_ I'm...what's the word, _infatuated_ , when _they_ were probably just being _nice._ I don't even know if she's gay, and I know _I'm…"_ She ran her hand through her undercut, as if to emphasise her point. "I just don't wanna show up there and look like this lesbo-freak stalking her 'cause she took pity on me once."

Okay, this was just getting painful. 

"Scorpia." Catra deadpanned. "First of all, it's a gay bar, it's the LGBT society, there's a _pretty_ decent chance she's one of 'The 

Gays'." (Air-quotes and all.) "And wasn't _she_ the one who _invited_ you?" 

"Well." Scorpia wrung her hands. "She _mentioned_ it to me, but that isn't really—"

"Oh my _god,_ Scorpia." She tried not to roll her eyes. "Okay. Pretending that _isn't_ as subtle a hint as a big neon sign, it's still a student event, for a society that you're _in,_ as a _student._ You have as much of a right to be there as she does, regardless of whether _she_ wants you there."

"I...guess you're right, yeah."

"I'm always right." Falser words had never been spoken. "Did you bring your stuff with you?" 

"It's in the car, yeah. Dress, makeup...I just, um, didn't see the point in going to yours, getting your stuff, going back to mine— 'specially when Tessaro isn't here anyway, I thought—" 

"Yeah, yeah, I got you." She _really_ didn't have to over-justify _every_ decision she _ever_ made. "What dress? The black one? With the slit?"

Scorpia nodded, pink tinging her cheeks. 

"Okay, if she turns you down in _that,_ she's either too straight to be in that bar or she has no fucking eyes." Her tone was half-joking, and Scorpia gave a small grin, but she didn't seem convinced.

Catra sighed again. 

God. Here goes. 

"Okay, listen to me now, 'cause I'm not gonna say this again: you are _hot_ , Scorpia." She could feel her own cheeks burning now, and she looked away, clearing her throat, shifting awkwardly in her seat. "Like...I don't understand how you're not fighting girls off with a stick-hot. And even with that aside—" The words stuck like tar in her throat, so she changed course _._ "Look, nobody knows who you were in high school, and _nobody_ thinks you're stupid or a lesbo-freak or whatever they made you _think_ you are, okay? You're…"

_Ugh. Don't make me say it._

"You're... _literally_ the nicest person I've ever met. Even...even to people who don't deserve it." (She didn't let Scorpia finish her _Aw, Cat—)_ "You're _strong_ and _supportive_ and you...you've got so much _love_ to give, Scorpia, you…" Be it shame or embarrassment, she couldn't even _look_ at her, her hands wringing under the table. "You...deserve to be surrounded by people who love you as much as you love them." Okay. That was enough. She _couldn't..._

"Catra, I—"

"And if Perfuma's not gonna be one of them?" Catra swiftly interrupted. Forcing down her last forkful of pasta, she sprang up from her seat, finally meeting Scorpia's eye as her hands slammed on the table, making the other jump. "Well, _fuck_ _her._ Fuck _all_ of them. You in that dress, me in my suit, we're gonna knock 'em all dead anyway."

She stayed standing, her heart pounding. She processed. Agonised. And Scorpia watched her all the while, her chin in her hand, gazing up at her with sheer and so _blissfully_ unaware admiration. 

"God," Scorpia finally said, "you're _such_ a good friend, Catra, you know that?" 

_No.,_ she wanted to say. 

_No,_ in fact, she did not _know that._

Adora's possible presence was _barely_ in the back of her mind now, as it already reeled over how the _hell_ she was going to bullshit her way through tonight if Perfuma _did_ end up talking to Scorpia. How was she supposed to _explain_ that she'd just fucking thrown Perfuma's number away and never told her? How would Scorpia understand when even _she_ didn't? 

Catra was not a good friend. Catra was shooting for worst person in the fucking universe.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least she's getting some self-awareness...? And that character development TOTALLY isn't gonna go down the toilet as soon as she sees Adora.
> 
> In my head Scorpia was listening to Lizzo because her bops have taken over my life the past week 
> 
> It also pains me to say that the cheeseburger without cheese guy is, like many of the McDonald's scenes, based on personal experience. If it wasn't obvious, I'm projecting like hell


	11. McGator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new McChapter! Would you believe I've already partially written chapter 12 too? I don't know where this sudden motivation came from but I'm not gonna question it
> 
>  **Warnings:** Implied self-harm and brief mentions of blood (not technically deliberate; the situation will be more clear in the next chapter)

Of all people Adora had expected to answer Glimmer's door, she couldn't say some ten-year-old she'd never seen in her life was among the options. She was short and stout, a short black bob framing a round, unimpressed face. Dark brown eyes surveyed Adora in a tight-lipped silence; clearly she was neither planning on breaking the ice nor letting Adora pass.

"Uh, hi," Adora said uncertainly, "is...Glimmer there?" She knew she was, Glimmer was the one who'd buzzed her in through the grand front gate, but the little girl had a presence that this grown-ass adult who'd just come from football practice found oddly intimidating.

"Who are you?" the girl demanded in lieu of an answer. 

Adora blinked;  _ I could ask you the same thing. _ "O-oh, I'm Adora, I'm Glimmer's—" 

Without letting her finish— Adora could have  _ sworn _ she saw her roll her eyes— the girl turned from her to call into the foyer. "Glimmer! Another one of your dumb friends is here."

"Frosta, what did I just  _ tell _ you about answering— oh! Adora! Hey!" And there was Glimmer, rushing in heels, sweeping past 'Frosta' (who only  _ now _ stepped aside) so she could envelop Adora in a hug. 

Adora was glad she'd opted to shower before leaving the locker room, so she was marginally  _ less _ of a sweaty disaster, but she must have looked like a hot mess next to Glimmer. She was a visage of sparkles, perfectly accentuated in her favourite purple mini dress that probably cost a semester's tuition and on her was worth every cent. Her shoulders shimmered with that Fenty lotion she used to smother on like sunblock before she realised she was leaving a trail of greasy glitter wherever she went; pink bracelets jangled on her wrists. She smelled like her mom's Chanel.

Savouring the embrace longer than she probably should have, Adora briefly wondered how she'd ever tried to convince anyone she was straight. She only drew back enough for Glimmer to comfortably turn away when Frosta loudly cleared her throat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I wasting  _ your _ time?" Glimmer demanded, and Frosta only stuck her tongue out in response. Adora raised her eyebrows, looking at Glimmer for an explanation, but she only glanced back apologetically before turning her focus back to Frosta.  _ "You," _ she pointed to her as she felt around for her car keys, "were supposed to be home a half-hour ago, so go get your stuff and get in the car,  _ now."  _

"Why can't _I_ go to the gay people club?" Frosta whined, momentarily sounding reassuringly more like the child she was. 

"Because you're eleven, Frosta, now _go,_ I'm _not_ going to tell you _again,_ okay?" (Adora coughed, having to suppress a laugh at how much she sounded like Angella just then.) 

Frosta glowered at her, then spun around and stalked down the hall, grumbling under her breath; all Adora heard was "I'm almost twelve."

"Yeah," Glimmer said to Adora quietly, "I'll explain later. I think the others are out by the pool if you wanna join them." 

"I don't have my bathing suit." Why _hadn't_ she brought her bathing suit? It wasn't like she was supposed to _know,_ but—

"Oh, you can't go in anyway, there's a gator in the pool."

What? _  
  
"What?!" _

Frosta rejoined them, and Glimmer began herding her out the door. "Don't worry about it, he's pretty docile. I'll see you in twenty, okay?" 

There was, indeed, a gator in Glimmer's pool. 

She could see it from the window, an ominous black shadow resting beneath pristine blue. Bow and Perfuma looked like they were trying to figure out the barbeque while Mermista and Sea Hawk bickered on one of the sun loungers. If Glimmer hadn't just _told_ her— if Entrapta wasn't there, the only one _acknowledging_ the damn thing as she crouched by the pool filming it— she might have thought there was a vaguely gator-shaped decoration in Glimmer's pool and carried on as normal too. 

Today was starting to feel _weird._ Like she'd stepped through the looking-glass. 

Mermista was pulling Entrapta back by the strap of her overalls just as Adora stepped out into the lanai, the screen enclosure that protected the pool from bugs and debris— although apparently, not from alligators, going by the huge hole where it has presumably busted in. Entrapta let out a surprised yelp as she fell back on her butt, then looked up at Adora. "Oh! Hi, Adora!"

"Hi," Adora said, casting a glance at the pool, "uh." 

"There's a gator in the pool," Entrapta helpfully and delightedly informed her. "I've never _seen_ one this close before."

"I can see that," said Adora, eyes flitting around in mounting panic at everyone's _continued_ lack of concern. She knew alligators weren't exactly uncommon around here, but was this just  _ normal _ for people with pools? "Shouldn't someone call animal control?"

"The gator guy's coming soon," Mermista told her, "You know," she cast a glare Sea Hawk's way, "the  _ professional." _

"I have watched," Sea Hawk declared, sitting up on the sun lounger to fold his arms defiantly,  _ "so _ much Gator Boys. I  _ think _ I know what I'm doing, princess." 

"Alright." Mermista extended her hand out towards the pool, which Entrapta was already inching back towards with her phone camera at the ready. "Go get killed. See if I care." 

Sea Hawk looked at the pool. Gulped. "On second thought." His voice was a little high; he cleared his throat, settling back down, "it _would_ be a little embarrassing for all involved if the gator guy arrived and there was no gator. I wouldn't want to steal his glory."

_ "Right." _ Mermista rolled her eyes, then turned back to Adora. "What're you looking so freaked out about? Don't gators break into pools in Tennessee?" 

Adora shrugged, less focused on the conversation so much as the deadly predator slinking around mere metres away. "We never had a pool."

"They don't have  _ pools _ in Tennessee?" Mermista asked. "Doesn't it get pretty hot over there?"

"Not really. We didn't have that much money," said Adora, for lack of a better excuse. In truth, she had no _idea_ if backyard pools were common in Tennessee. She didn't know much about Tennessee at all, really, it had just _seemed_ like the kind of place her friends would be unlikely to ask to visit ; she kept forgetting she hadn't broken the truth to the others yet. It all felt so stupid now. 

Mermista raised an incredulous brow. "Didn't you say you had a  _ horse?" _

"Oh yeah." Adora inwardly cringed at the reminder. Couldn't even keep track of her own lies. _"Everyone_ in Tennessee has a horse."

"Right," said Mermista, in a worryingly similar tone she'd used on Sea Hawk.

Perhaps fake backstories were neither the time nor place for her resurfaced childhood fantasies. Perhaps friendships were neither the time nor place for fake backstories.

(She still really wanted a horse.)

_ "Fascinating." _ Entrapta near-whispered from the edge of the pool, gazing at the dozy gator in wide-eyed wonderment. "I love her. I want to take her home."

"Yeah, don't do that," said Mermista.  _ "Anyway. _ Adora. Did you meet that Frosta kid?" 

"The Fu-Brightons' new security guard?" Adora tried to joke to lessen the tension in her chest, "yeah, she gave me the third degree at the door. Do _you_ know what's going on there?" 

_ "Well."  _ And she was off; Mermista could  _ never _ pass up an opportunity to gossip, even if it probably wasn't  _ that _ juicy. "Angella's in a really crabby mood, right?" 

"She is?" Adora asked nervously. 

"Uh-huh, why do you think we're out here with Ally?" 

"Ally?" 

"The gator's name." Mermista paused; she was rethinking it. "Like a working title." 

At a delighted gasp from Entrapta, Adora looked at the pool as the gator was coming, a flurry of bubbles followed by a peep of a snout which swiftly dipped back under again. It really did seem considerably chilled out, an unsteady calm that only drew more attention to how quickly it could turn and kill someone on a moment's notice.

And here they all were, well within killing distance.

This was fine.

"He looks like a Rogelio," she said absently. She didn't know why she said that, but come to think of it, it _did_ kind of remind of her of Rogelio.

"Rogelio it is," Mermista concurred, "so we're out here with _Rogelio_ 'cause if you've  _ met _ Angella in a bad mood, you probably know taking your chances with an eight-foot death machine is preferable." Adora had to agree with that; she'd  _ heard _ Angella and Glimmer argue, and while it was rarely that  _ serious, _ it still made her feel sick. "I guess she's fallen out with this secret lover, 'cause Glimmer says she hasn't been out all week either. So she's taking it out nagging Glimmer about how she needs to beef up her resume if she wants a chance in hell of _ever_ getting into law school, which, I mean, it'ss  _ true _ , but you know Glimmer's not gonna take any advice presented to her in nagging form. So she doesn't. Not in the like, two days Angella gave her anyway. See, Angella's got this colleague, something-Uukkarnit, I think my parents know him too, and he's...one of  _ those _ rich parents, you know? The kind that's convinced his kid is the next crazy prodigy and they've just got to be pushed and pulled in all directions, you get what I'm talking about." Adora really didn't, but she nodded anyway. "He's looking for weekend tutors— kid's homeschooled, obviously— and it just so  _ happens _ Angella's little prodigy speaks another language  _ and _ plays piano— did  _ you _ know Glimmer can play piano, by the way?"  _ (I did! _ Bow proudly called from the still-unworking grill; Adora just wordlessly nodded.) "Yeah, so, now she has to spend her Saturdays with this weird, intense kid who's got no idea how to be a kid, and is about as enthusiastic about all this as she is. You can imagine Glimmer is  _ pissed."  _

"Oh God, yeah." She was honestly starting to feel bad for Frosta now, perhaps even moreso than Glimmer. 

In her peripheral vision, she could see Bow was talking quietly to Perfuma now, whose eyes were downcast, arms around herself.  She could take a good guess what they were talking about. 

Now she just felt  _ bad;  _ she knew Perfuma had her reasons that made it hard to put herself out there, and to work up that courage only to be  _ rejected— _

Except she wasn't. This was all Catra's fault. Not Perfuma's. Not Adora's. 

But she was  _ Adora. _ Of course she felt guilty. 

"So are you gonna get ready?" Mermista asked her. 

Adora looked down at her outfit. She was donning H&M's finest: the crispest white t-shirt she owned, sleeves turned up at the cuffs, tucked into her favourite blue mom jeans. "I...thought I'd just wear this," she said uncertainly. 

Mermista looked over her. Almost pitying if Adora didn't know any better. "Okay, as great as your arms look in that, Adora...no." 

She probably hadn't meant to sound rude. And she didn't, not really. Adora knew that was just how Mermista was, ruthlessly blunt but not  _ bitchy  _ by any means. But the comment crawled up Adora's chest; made her hunch in on herself. "Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking," she conceded, deflated, "I'll talk to Glimmer when she gets back, maybe I can borrow something."

The conversation tapered off soon after that. Mermista ended up bickering with Sea Hawk again, something to do with his karaoke song choice, and with Entrapta still enraptured by Rogelio II, Adora moved on to Bow and Perfuma. They were obviously past discussing Scorpia now, as Perfuma had launched into a presumably Rogelio II-inspired rant about wetland conservation, her hands enunciating wildly with her words. The closest Adora had seen her to  _ angry _ was when she got passionate like this, a boundless fire ready to take on the world. She had no  _ doubt _ she would put it into practice once college stopped swallowing most of her time. 

Bow was trying to argue for building solar parks on wetland areas. Perfuma was conflicted, but had plenty to say. 

Adora didn't have much to say at all. She didn't a lot about either topic outside of what she'd learned in her and Perfuma's shared environmental biology class, much less whether environmental preservation or renewable energy was more important, and she didn't want to look like an idiot if she said something wrong _.  _ When Bow asked her for her input, she ended up excusing herself to the bathroom. 

_Catastrophising._ That was what Catra had called it, in the biggest word Adora had ever heard her willingly use. She always overreacted, especially when it came to anything  _ social, _ anything to do with how others perceived her. But she didn't _feel_ particularly panicky, as she sat down on the toilet lid, mindlessly scrolling through old photos on her phone. She was numb, more than anything. 

It was always going to be like this. Wasn't it?

There was a knock sometime later. 

"Hey, Adora?" Mermista's voice. "Gator guy's here if you wanna watch Rogelio's send-off. Also, you've been in there like ten minutes and it's a _little,_ uh, concerning." 

Had she?

She rose to her feet, her legs aching. "Is Glimmer back yet?" 

"Nope." A pause; a sigh. "You okay in there, Adora? Do you...like, need something?"

She didn't really know how to answer that. She didn't know what she was anymore. With a preparative exhale, she opened the door and followed Mermista to the sunroom to watch the live Animal Planet segment unfold. 

Poor Rogelio II was  _ much _ less than chilled now as it was dragged, thrashing and growling, from its new luxurious home. Adora _almost_ felt for it, but no one was as saddened as Entrapta, who watched with her hands pressed to the window. 

"She's lost, remember?" Bow tried to assure her, rubbing her shoulder, "they're just taking her back home to the wetlands." 

"This whole _land_ is her home," Perfuma muttered, as gator guy scooped Rogelio II up like a tantrum-throwing child,  _ "we're _ the invaders." 

"Oh my god," Mermista groaned, "would you two shut  _ up  _ about saving the world or whatever? No _wonder_ Adora locked herself in the bathroom, we're supposed to be getting into party mode here." 

Mermista had scooped her hair into a bun, having grown bored at some point watching gator guy do his work. Somehow, she looked even  _ more _ painfully stunning this way, black lips and dark eye makeup, a severe pant-suit amping the intimidating factor up to a hundred— though it wasn't even what she wore so much as how she wore it, so regal and so _effortlessly_ __ confident. 

How was Adora  _ ever _ going to live up to these people?  


She'd been thinking more and more lately about the night she received her college acceptance letter, the night she'd been anticipating; the night that ended up changing _everything,_ and not in the way she wanted. 

Beatrix had even warned her about this. It was one thing being the best of the best in high school, she had told her, waving off her apprehensive protests— but come college, once she was out in the _real_ world , she was going to find herself dwarfed by other people's talents; their drive and their accomplishments. People who came from more privilege. People who were simply  _ born _ better. 

_ You'll never belong, _ had been the implication. 

And here she was. She'd been on the other side of the looking-glass all along. On the outside looking in. A big fish in a vast ocean. A gator in a backyard pool.

It was always going to be like this. 

Beatrix was right. Beatrix was almost always right.

* * *

"Just admit it, you  _ love _ being her favourite."

"What are you  _ talking _ about?" This was _far_ from the reaction Adora had been expecting. "I just talked Beatrix into letting you stay! Aren't you  _ happy?" _

"Oh, fucking  _ ecstatic!"  _ Catra threw her hands up. "The great and brilliant  _ Adora's _ saved me once again! What, you want me to kiss the ground at your  _ feet _ in gratitude?" __

"Wha—" Adora stumbled back momentarily, but snapped back into action as Catra tried to leave, grabbing her arm. "What is your  _ problem? _ I don't get what you're mad about!" 

Catra shook her off but kept eye contact; her voice lowered, briefly wavering. "Do you  _ actually _ care about me, Adora? Like, at all?" 

"I…" She blinked in shock, her anger ebbing.  _ "Catra, _ of course I do. Why  _ else _ would I have…"

"Well, let's see," Catra cut in before she could finish, the fire reignited, "so Tessaro keeps her scapegoat? So you can continue looking better in comparison? So you can carry on playing hero because I'm just  _ that  _ fucking useless?" 

"It's not like that!" She couldn't help her anger rising again in turn. "You  _ know _ it's not like that. Catra—" 

She reached for Catra's arm again— she wasn't expecting Catra to  _ smack _ her away this time: she even looked shocked at _herself_ for a moment, but she quickly steeled herself once more.

"Stop it." She drew back, folding her arms, withdrawing in on herself. "Just  _ go. _ Aren't you gonna be late for school?" 

It  _ was _ getting late, but she couldn't— 

"Are you...gonna be okay?" she asked tentatively, letting the anger simmer for a moment. 

"Leave me  _ alone, _ Adora." 

Beatrix's voice called her from downstairs. She gave Catra one last look, helpless and pleading, but Catra only glowered. 

—So she left. What else could she do? 

She was hoping to calm down as the school day went on, but she found herself unable to concentrate. Had she even done the right thing? She'd  _ thought _ she was doing the right thing, didn't she? She'd thought Catra had  _ wanted _ to stay from the way she'd told her what Beatrix had said last night, barely able to get the words out through struggling breaths. So why was Catra mad? What was this talk about her being _selfish?_

A new thought crept into her mind around second period, one so jarring once it truly set in that she felt like she was going to be physically sick. Even if she  _ had _ done the right thing— had she done it for the right  _ reasons? _

_ Was _ she being selfish? 

By last period, she had cycled through a million thoughts and a million emotions, excused herself from class to hyperventilate or cry at  _ least _ three times, and finally settled back on anger. She arrived home  _ brimming _ with it, all ready to storm upstairs and  _ really _ give Catra a piece of her mind.

On the landing, a sound stopped her in her tracks.  Barely audible but  _ completely _ unmistakable. 

Sobbing.

She lingered, boiling down; guilt crawling up her back. Then she followed the sound to the bathroom, gently tapping on the door. 

Instantly, the sobbing stopped. She heard a sharp intake of breath, a shuddering gasp.

"Catra?" she said softly. "It's me. Adora. Can I come in?"  


She was half-expecting silence. Or to be told to go fuck herself.

There was a beat; and then, the click of the door unlocking. 

As soon as she stepped in, took in the sight, her heart shattered with the shards of glass on the floor. "Oh, Catra…" 

She had to act fast; some towels for the blood, some antiseptic and gauze for the wounds, a dustpan and brush to sweep the remains of the mirror from the floor. Catra stayed where she was, quivering like a leaf despite the towel Adora hastily wrapped around her shoulders, but stone-faced and silent until Adora finally kneeled down next to her.   


The world slowed. Closed in. Just her and Catra in this tiny bathroom; hearts unfurled and the fuzzy spilled and entangled across the tiles. 

"I'm here," she said, reaching for her good hand, "I'm here, okay?" 

Gradually, she was able to pull Catra into an embrace, and that was when Catra unravelled altogether; choking sobs, breathless, head buried in Adora's shoulder as her fingers dug into her shirt, shaking and _heaving_ and as shattered as the mirror she'd put her fist through— and all Adora could do was stroke her back, her hair, murmuring useless affirmations:  _ it's alright, I've got you, it's going to be okay, let it out, I'm here, I'm here… _

She felt helpless. She felt like the worst person in the universe.

* * *

"I still can't  _ believe _ I missed the gator guy," Glimmer complained over her second virgin cocktail. 

"It really wasn't  _ that _ exciting," said Bow, "he was actually kinda mad at us for being out in the lanai with it."

"Yeah, my mom had  _ plenty _ to say about that too. I don't even want to  _ look _ at my phone." Glimmer groaned. "You picked a song yet?" 

Bow grinned, sliding the song list across to her. "Already picked before I got here."

"Great." Glimmer drained the rest of her glass and held it out to him. "Can you get me another one of these while you're up there?"

As Bow got up to oblige, Glimmer dropped her head into her hands with another groan.  _ "God.  _ I wish these stupid drinks had alcohol in them. Why do we have to live in the one country that _doesn't_ let people our age drink our sorrows?"

"It is kind of dumb, isn't it?" Adora agreed. She was actually feeling quite a bit better now despite Glimmer's sour mood. The bar wasn't nearly as bad as she had been dreading. Not  _ too _ loud or crowded, and now that she had _accepted_ this part of herself it was nice to be in an environment where people like her were  celebrated; at least she belonged in  _ some _ way. 

And maybe it helped that it was just her, Bow and Glimmer for now. The whole group had met up with Cynthia and Vivian inside, and tragically there just wasn't a booth big enough for all of them. It seemed she just fared better in smaller groups. Or perhaps with people she had a closer kinship with; people she was already assured knew who she was and where she came from and still liked her just the same. 

"Look on the bright side," she attempted, "at least Frosta didn't come." 

"Ugh, don't get me started." Glimmer shook her head. "Like, I feel  _ bad _ for her and stuff, I just don't get why my mom had to make her  _ my _ problem." 

"Yeah." Adora shrugged helplessly. "She could have asked you." From Glimmer's  _ mhm, _ that seemed to be the correct response. "Maybe we should have seen if Rogelio wanted to come."   


Glimmer snorted. "I guess _that_ would have livened things up a bit."

Some mic feedback drew their attention to the stage. The host, Adora presumed, was tall and slender and androgynous, dressed to the nines in what she could only compare to a Picasso painting. They smiled, thin-lipped and sly, and tapped the mic again before continuing. 

"Ladies, gentleman,  _ and _ those of us who know better." They leaned forward with the mic, as if to savour the chuckle and  _ whoo! _ 's from the crowd, then drew back in feigned surprise. "Well, I have  _ got _ to say, I'm impressed by the turnout for a student event that actually  _ follows  _ drinking age laws— I hope you're jotting  _ that  _ down, feds." (Glimmer grumbled something indiscernible about that as Bow returned with _her_ non-alcoholic drink.) "Now let me just say, I was  _ ecstatic _ when I heard we were going to be hosting an event for the  _ prestigious _ EU." They paused again for a round of cheers, and Adora actually found herself joining in. "—But that was when I thought my boss meant  _ Eternia _ University." Cheers turned to jovial boos, which seemed to fuel the host in equal measure.  _ "Anyway _ , my name is Dakota Tobia, and I will be your host tonight; drink it in, darlings, because  seeing _me_ here is the closest to esteem you Etherians are  _ ever  _ gonna reach." More boos, and Dakota threw their head back in dramatic gratification.  _ "Mmm,  _ oh,  _ believe _ me, your jeers are like music to my ears! Now, speaking of anything  _ but, _ first up tonight we have YMCA by the Village People, performed by one  _ Sebastian Hawkins. _ If you need me in the meantime you may have to wave to get my attention, as I  _ will _ be wearing earplugs." 

"I sometimes forget that's his actual name," Bow said as Sea Hawk practically bounced to the stage, beaming ear-to-ear as a small round of cheers followed (cut in with Mermista's "you are  _ such _ an asshole!"). Dakota handed the microphone over, with a big eye-roll aimed at the crowd, and the music began after they exited the stage. 

Adora  _ really _ hadn't thought she would _laugh_ tonight after her mood-drop earlier, but Sea Hawk's dance moves already had her losing her absolute mind, and that was before he even _started_ singing.

He was just  _ barely _ a better singer than he was a dancer, he only had to throw back a few shots for anyone to find  _ that _ out for themselves, but his energy, his enthusiasm, his sheer  _ immunity _ to embarrassment,  _ even  _ when presumably sober— God, it was contagious; by the second chorus she, Bow and Glimmer were all bellowing along to the parts they knew, doing the stupid arm movements from their seats. She was very almost tempted to join the people on the dancefloor.

He finished with a bow as the bar cheered. It was bound to be a tough act to follow, but the next person— someone who clearly  _ was  _ drunk, launching the most aggressive rendition of Poker Face she'd ever heard— was sure as hell giving it their all.

"Come on," Glimmer said, over a bridge reminiscent of machine-gun fire, "let's see how the others are." 

Sea Hawk was the paragon of smugness, Mermista in a huff next to him and very _clearly_ trying not to smile. She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly when the booth was approached, popping a thumb his way. "Yup, my boyfriend, everyone."

Cynthia and Vivian were over twenty-one, with the differently-coloured wristbands to show for it, and already tipsy and giggling. "Rub it in, why don't they," Glimmer grumbled to Adora, but it was light-hearted. Adora didn't seem to be the only one in much higher spirits now. This was shaping up to be a pretty good night.

"So," said Sea Hawk, reclining with his arms behind his head, "any of  _ you _ three following up my magnum opus?" 

"I'm thinking of it," said Glimmer. 

"Not a chance," said Adora.

"Yup," said Bow, grinning slyly, "but I can't say what. It's a surprise."   


"It's gonna be We Didn't Start the Fire, I'm calling it now," Glimmer said, stroking Bow's arm fondly, "this dork's got to be the _one_ person who knows all the words asides from Billy Joel himself. Probably knows all the actual history too." 

Adora and Bow exchanged glances. They'd already talked about this; he'd be singing Billy Joel, alright. 

"Maybe you should sing Old Town Road, Adora," Mermista chimed in with a small smirk, "or A Horse with No Name, or..." She failed to think of more songs about horses. "You know, in case there's anyone else from Tennessee in the crowd."

"Maybe I shouldn't," said Adora, glaring at her, half-pleading.

_"I_ put Vivian and I down for Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now," Cynthia announced with a grin, mercifully steering Mermista's attention.

"And  _ this _ is how I find out?" Vivian balked in mock-aghast, but she quickly broke down in giggles and kissed Cynthia's cheek, which Cynthia followed with a kiss on the lips that lingered longer than it normally would in public. 

"Get a  _ room, _ you two," Mermista sighed in jest, lightly shoving Cynthia's shoulder.

"We're in a  _ gay bar, _ Mermista," Vivian retorted, "this  _ is  _ our room." __

"Hey," Bow piped up, glancing around, "where'd Entrapta go?"

"'Observing.'" Mermista used air-quotes. "I don't even _wanna_ know."

Bow seemed to accept that as he turned to Perfuma. "Are you singing?" Perfuma was looking right past him, seemingly in her own little world. "Perfuma? You okay?"

"Scorpia's here," Perfuma murmured.  


She said it so quietly Adora barely registered it. 

Mermista was the first to look, standing from her seat so she could see over the booth. "Oh, sweet mother of all that is good and sapphic," she muttered.

That was the point Adora turned too, her curiosity piqued. 

"—Holy  _ fuck."  _ Glimmer was looking as well; her breath hitched as she grabbed Adora's arm, just because she was closest, "if you don't ask her out, Perfuma,  _ I  _ am— am I right, Adora?" 

Adora didn't answer. She wasn't looking at Scorpia. 

While she did, admittedly, look incredible, she also hadn't come alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: neither Catra nor Adora is the worst person in the universe- Beatrix Tessaro, however, is a _contender_
> 
>  **Dakota Tobia** is, of course, Double Trouble; I decided to keep the voice actor's last name since they seem to project on the character a lot
> 
> I honestly don't know how to explain my logic in writing the first part of this chapter other than that I wanted to finally establish which state this is set in with nothing less than a blatant stereotype (a free virtual cheeseburger to whoever guesses first...)- and of course, I wanted to introduce Frosta. I'm planning on fleshing out all or at least most characters involved...eventually
> 
> I actually went through this fic the other day to do some editing, just changing the formatting (which looked like garbage from doing it all on my phone) and fixing minor mistakes/sentence structure issues I missed the first time around. If you guys notice anything going forward you're more than welcome to point it how, my ADHD ass is bound to skip over some things 
> 
> Whew, this is long! Once again, thank you so much to everyone who's still around, and please know I know I appreciate every single piece of feedback whether it's a comment, a kudos, a bookmark. I'm going to make more of an effort to respond to each comment individually, but I do see them and I DO appreciate them more than I can possibly articulate; so again, thank you SO much <3 
> 
> I'll hopefully see you all again soon B)


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